Do not read this
by WayPastMyBedtime
Summary: I probably should have known better than to play hide and seek with a hunter. And now I could feel his burning stare on my back. He was standing right behind me ... A girl gets kidnapped by Daryl Dixon and Rick Grimes...Mac turns up later in the story... Rated M for a reason.
1. Electric blue

**PROLOGUE: DO NOT READ THIS  
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The title caught your attention, didn't it?

I told you _not_ to do something but you went ahead and did it anyway. You just couldn't listen, could you?

But that's the thing with people, isn't it? I always tell everyone to do something with their best interest in mind, but no one ever listens to me. You are no different.

You must trust me. I have some serious advice for you and you must follow it without question: you have to stop reading this. Please ... trust me. This story contains way too much profanity, blood and gore for your sensitive eyes.

Stop yourself from experiencing any pain or sadness. This is not a story with a happy ending.

**DO NOT scroll down and read the rest of this story.**

I can assure you that you will not like this story.

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You can still stop this…...

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Last chance...

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Whatever happens next is entirely your fault. You're about to read my thoughts and pain. It's my fingers on the keyboard and your eyes on these words.

You're thinking you still have the option of closing this story and calmly continuing your life as if nothing has happened. But it's too late to stop now... It's already happening.

You think that there is still a way out.

Let's say you do stop reading this story. You close the tab of this story, log out of FanFiction and move on with your life. Then tonight you'll lie in your bed but before letting yourself fall asleep you'll think about your day. You'll think about how today was no different from yesterday and how it will be no different from tomorrow. You'll think about how repetitive and insignificant your life really is. And then all of a sudden this story will pop into your head. Only...You don't know how the story goes... And you don't know who I am. Because you decided it was best to look away...Because you did not have the guts to read further...Because I told you not to.

A story you began but left unfinished. Do you really want to just leave it there?

I've piqued your curiosity, haven't I? Just admit it. You want to finish this story now, even though it hasn't even begun yet. Well, no more time to chit-chat, let's cut through the bullshit and begin. It's too late to stop now anyway...

It's already happening.

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**CHAPTER 1: ELECTRIC BLUE**

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"So," a voice in the distance began hesitantly, "You got a name, ma'am?"

I wasn't going to respond to the two men standing before me. In fact, I wasn't even going to look them in the eyes. Not after the way they had been treating me, anyway.

Shoving not only a revolver but also a crossbow in my face. Forcing me to drop my only defence, a rather harmless Swiss army knife, on the snow-covered asphalt. Dragging me towards the car while commanding me to 'hurry the fuck up' as if this was a normal thing to be happening. Completely ignoring my exclamations of protest, throwing me into the car_…_

_I'm sure this entire situation can be filed under the section kidnapping. _

I sighed as I tried to look at my surroundings. My eyesight, not yet completely adapted to the darkness, could only distinguish two distant figures in the dark, warming themselves by the only fireplace in the room. The rest of the place was filled with an overwhelming blackness. I wasn't even able to see my own legs! I could, however, feel that I was sitting in a chair. Not by my own choice, of course. Someone had found it necessary to tie both my arms and legs with rope while I was unconscious.

Another thing I could sure as hell feel was my heartbeat pounding heavily in my head, which was no doubt a consequence of my exorbitant drinking earlier today. Taking in a massive amount of alcohol was the only thing I could do during these hard winter times to chase the freezing cold from my bones. But then again, if my blood hadn't been drowning in whiskey, I would have been able to defend myself just fine and I wouldn't be in this rather unpleasant position. Tied to a chair by these strangers like I'm some kind of criminal. Look, I understand that the world we once knew has ended, that much has become clear to me these past several months, but this is still the 21st century for fuck's sake. And I have done nothing wrong. Not a damn thing.

"You a mute or sumthing?," the other male asked, approaching me with a candle he had just lit. I could feel the warmth of the small flame radiating on my face as he held it close by me as if trying to make sure I was still alive and had not frozen to death.

_'Do not look into his eyes, do not look into his eyes,'_ I kept repeating in my head. He startled me when he placed one of his hands on my jaw and lifted my face up. I tried to pull away from him at first, but the warm and comforting feeling of his hand seemed to pull me in closer so I unconsciously leant into his touch. That small movement was enough for him to assure my well-being so he let go of my jaw and put the lighted candle on the table next to me.

Then it hit me, I could totally pretend to be deaf! That way I don't have to answer any of their nosy questions. Plus, I could eavesdrop on their conversations given that they would think that I couldn't understand a word they're saying until I have managed to figure a way out of this hostile situation I was currently in. Still half-drunk or not, I just thought of the best way out. Yeah, this idea of mine is pretty neat. Man, if my hands hadn't been tied to the chair I would have patted myself on the back.

So there I sat on the chair grinning like I had just won a strategic game of chess as I felt a tickling movement making its way up my legs. When I looked down I noticed to my utter disgust a rat with a long tail crawling onto my lap and starting to bite into the fabric of my pair of jeans. Before I knew what I was doing I was expressing my feeling of repulsion in a good old-fashioned French swearword.

"Merde!," I squealed. The men, however, did not seem to understand why I was so upset all of the sudden and quickly took both gun and crossbow and pointed them for the second time that day directly at my face. They both stared at me questionably as I continued to wiggle the chair I was strained in uncontrollably until the man with the crossbow noticed my sudden reason of panic and pushed the vile beast of my leg with his left-hand.

"Shut it!," he grabbed my chin with his other hand and forced my mouth back closed. It was only then that I realized my incredibly embarrassing mistake because not only had the two men hear me scream bloody murder over the long-tailed creature but so had probably everyone else within two-mile distance. So much for pretending to be a mute.

I looked down at his big calloused hand that covered my entire mouth as I felt his other one ran over the spot where the rat had been just seconds ago. I guess he wanted to check if it had eaten into my skin. I could feel myself starting to blush as he rubbed the hole in my jeans and touched the bare skin of my inner thigh while doing so. He was so close to me that I could feel his scent, which was remarkably calming, prickling my nose.

I admit that I couldn't help myself and wanted to know what sort of face matched the scent. So I slowly looked up and allowed my green eyes to take a peek at my capturer's face for the first time since being dragged into the car. My eyes started their way up his chin which was covered with some facial hair that probably used to be a goatee but was left unkempt. Completely understandable, of course, given the current circumstances we were in. Razors were scarce just like everything else we used to be able to buy in a normal pharmacy. Against better judgement I let my eyes linger higher up his face past a mole and found his eyes staring straight back into mine. Even in the badly-lighted room I could see how intimidating they were. It seemed as if they were piercing right through me. The colour of his eyes, however, remained a mystery to me as the candle did not provide sufficient light to distinguish the colour. The only thing I could see written in them was anger, and it was all directed towards me.

I realize now that the whole situation should have scared me to death but it just dazzled me how open and yet at the same time unapproachable his eyes looked. Not only was I rendered speechless by his intimidating gaze but I also found myself unable to look away from it.

"So not a mute then?" I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of amusement on his face while he spoke. His rhetorical question had, nevertheless, broken the spell I seemed to be under and I quickly lowered my glance back to my lap where I could see his right-hand still making slow circles on my thigh. I pressed my lips together even harder as I tried to keep my hands from trembling. Which was useless, of course, and I tried to deduce the reason of my sudden trembling. Am I scared of this man, just freezing cold or is the alcohol that Jacques gave me wearing off? Speaking of which? Where the fuck is he? What did they do with him? What did they do _to _him?

A heavy pounding interrupted my thoughts and directed my attention to the other side of the room where I could see the other man trying to stamp the rat to death with his feet. "I fucking hate these things," he murmured. The rat, however, completely unaware of the fuzz that had just transpired over its existence, continued its journey past my tied feet over the floor, and found its safe exit through a hole in the wooden wall. A wooden wall? Am I in a cottage or something?

"Maybe she doesn't understand English? I mean, she did swear in French just now, so she's probably French," deducted the man holding my mouth closed.

Typical. I'm 'probably French' so I must be unable to understand and speak English.

"Daryl, I think she does understand English because she just rolled her eyes at you. In fact, I think she can understand us just fine. "

A bright stream suddenly filled the room as a door, that I had not seen before, opened. My eyes started to water at the abrupt entry of light but I still managed to see an older man standing in the doorway. Didn't he see me? Was the darkness too ever-present in the room that he did not even notice my presence? Or did he not think it was alarming or at least weird there was a girl tied to the chair? Maybe he just decided it was for the better to ignore me, maybe he genuinely did not see me. Either way, he did not acknowledge my existence.

"You want me bring in the other one? He was severely dehydrated, but managed to regain consciousness," the old man stated, "He's not saying anything, though. Any luck with this one?"

"Bring the boy in," Daryl simply replied as he finally let go of my mouth, his right-hand however stayed on my leg which he then squished as he leaned in closer to me.

"Don't be scared. I won't hurt you," he whispered in my ear. He probably saw me getting teary-eyed and felt the need to make me feel more comfortable. Little did he know I wasn't actually afraid of him, but it was the sudden beam of light that had made my sensitive eyes fill with water. I genuinely wasn't scared of him. I know I should have been but I had already gone through worse things that this after all. How ever uncomfortable the current situation is for me, I had already experienced and survived so much worse. I mean, if they had wanted me dead, I would have already been buried by now, right? If they had wanted to abuse me, they would have already taken the opportunity when I was unconscious, right? Unless, they would want me to be awake and fully aware of the dreadful things happening to me. Maybe they liked a girl to struggle and squirm underneath them.

_'No, stop thinking like that,'_ I commanded myself. _'Don't generalize the male sex. Not all men are bad,'_ I tried to reassure myself, looking at Daryl's warm hand which was still on the bare skin of my thigh.

"You should give her some water, she probably has some dehydration too," the old man commented.

"Yes, thank you, Hershel, I'll come with you," The other man replied as he and Hershel stepped out. As soon as they closed the door behind them the room filled itself with darkness once again.

_Great, now my eyesight has to adapt to the shadow-filled room again._

The man named 'Daryl', however, did not seem to experience the same issue of lacking visibility. He managed to get up and walk around as confidently as a nocturnal animal would do without knocking anything over on his way. I barely even heard him creeping back to me.

"Drink," Daryl whispered in my ear. As he was holding a glass with water to my dried lips a cold chill went down my spine. I would have never admitted this out loud but I was glad that Daryl was the one holding the glass and that my own hands were tied to the chair because they had started trembling again. I really did not want him to notice my inability to contain my self-control around him and assume I was afraid of him like he did earlier when he saw my water-filled eyes.

'_Why am I reacting like this anyway?'_ I asked myself. _'It has to be the alcohol or the cold.'_ I quickly concluded. My wishes of him not noticing my trembling were left unanswered when Daryl asked the following question.

"You cold, girl?" I slowly nodded, not knowing whether or not he could see the small movement. He apparently did because I felt him lift the chair with me in it and drag it with ease towards the hearth. After which, he threw in a new log of wood, grabbed a blanket and put it on my lap. I'm sure that Daryl had no idea how much that little gesture meant to me. The blanket was now covering up the bare flesh that had become visible thanks to the rat. Not only was it the politest gesture someone had done for me today, but it also the nicest that someone had been to me in weeks.

"Better," Daryl asked while kneeling down in front of me. I could feel him gawking at me as if he was trying to read the expression on my face.

I nodded as I lifted my head hesitantly because I wanted to show him I wasn't scared. When my eyes found his face I coughed in an feeble attempt to clear my dry throat before muttering a barely audible "Thanks".

He nodded approvingly at my short response and handed me another glass of water. It was then that I saw the colour of his eyes with fire reflecting in them.

They were blue. Electric blue.


	2. Stay of Execution

**CHAPTER 2: STAY OF EXECUTION**

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"Look, I'll tell you my name first. I'm Rick Grimes and this right here," He said while pointing at the crossbowman, "is Daryl Dixon."

The man who called himself 'Rick Grimes' had entered the room again and brought with him my friend...

No, wait. Scratch that. That's not the correct term to describe our relationship. Acquaintance? No, that doesn't sound right either. 'Partner in distress' sounds more appropriate for these desperate times. Sure, that's what Jacques was to me. Our relationship had adopted the 'You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours' attitude. But I was also full aware of the fact that he would just as easily stab me in the back without thinking twice, if it meant saving his own skin.

I was slightly disappointed when Rick and Jacques entered the room because by doing so they had abruptly ended the staring contest I was having with Daryl.

Now Rick was the one staring at me, sincerely believing that his short introduction was enough for me to spill the beans and tell him my entire life story, which of course I wasn't going to do.

"Well, Rick Grimes, I would shake your hand if mine hadn't been tied because where I come from that is how we greet people. We do not push guns nor crossbows in the faces of strangers for no apparent reason," I replied with what I hoped sounded like a stern voice. But due to the dryness of my throat, I just sounded very weak and sick.

"For no apparent reason? You were being chased down by at least a dozen walkers! Your boyfriend over here wasn't going to save the day because he was fucking unconscious!" Daryl did not seem to understand the point I was trying to make.

"I could've handled the situation myself." I stated simply "I don't need some guy to –"

"Yeah, is that right, girl?," He interjected crudely, "How were you going to defend yourself? With that tiny knife you had on you?"

"Daryl," Rick said while shaking his head, "that's not what matters right now. Look, miss, I can understand you feeling mistreated –" I grunted as Rick used that euphemism and I make sure that my disapproval of his use of terms was loud enough for both men to hear.

Completely ignoring me, Rick continued, "but you clearly did not have the situation in hand."

"But –" I started.

"No, what's done is done. Now you have to listen to me. We took a risk, letting the both of you come with us. Don't make us regret it."

That last part probably should have sounded like a threat, but it really didn't. What were they going to do to me? Abduct me? Oh no, wait they already did that. Take away my only weapon? Check. Tie me with a rope? You can cross that box out too. I could feel anger started to boil in me and I glanced over at Jacques, but the blond boy did not in the slightest seem alarmed by the entire situation, as a matter of fact he seemed a bit too calm. Then it hit me. He was probably still drunk.

From the moment I saw both Rick and Daryl step out of the room I whistled at Jacques to catch his attention.

"Qu'est-ce que tu veux?," Jacques asked me with a weak voice.

_What do I want?_ What the hell did he think I wanted from him. I was the one tied to chair while he was the one sitting freely on the ground.

"La corde, Jacques. Allez, aide-moi!" _'Come over here and untie me quickly'_ my mind begged as I glanced at the door which was fortunately still closed.

"Non," he abruptly said.

"Comment non? Jacques, merde, s'il te plaît?" This was so typical for Jacques to start acting like a little bitch every time he got drunk.

"Non," he bluntly repeated.

"Pourquoi pas, Jacques?"

"Je n'ai plus d'envie de s'enfuir tout le temps. Je veux rester ici." Well, I never considered continuously running for our lives as a nice way to pass the time either, but it has become necessary, a matter of life and death even. Besides, we can't just stay here, we don't know these people at all.

"Mais nous ne connaissons pas ces hommes. Ils peuvent être des meurtriers," _'We don't know these men. For all we know, they could be murders!,'_ I tried to reason with him.

He turned his face towards me and got up. While walking in my direction he almost fell over his own two feet. His stumbling was most likely caused by the combination of darkness and intoxication on his part. In any other situation I would have without a doubt taken the opportunity to laugh at him because he would always mock my own clumsiness but due to the seriousness of the current situation I was in, I decided against it. He sat on his knees in front of me and grabbed both my shoulders firmly with his two hands.

"There aren't just men in the group. I have seen women and even children. So, you really need to chill, okay?" Not only could I feel his English words penetrating my mind but also the smell of the English whiskey accompanied by them. His breath seriously smelled like it was on fire. I'm sure if I were to have held a lighter to his mouth and he had burped he would have spitted fire like a dragon. I was surprised that he was still so drunk after all this time. But then again, he had had so much more to drink than me because he didn't like sharing the precious contents of the whiskey bottle. Plus, I didn't know exactly how much time had passed since our drink this morning provided that I had been unconscious for an uncertain amount of time.

He thereby ended our discussion by slumping wearingly into a chair behind me. "Now if you would just excuse me while I'm going to have a little lay down because for the first time since this whole thing started, I feel safe."

I saw the opportunity of a swift escape disappear as soon as I heard Rick and Daryl enter the room. The sudden opening of the door let in a cold wind which put an abrupt end to the fire, and therefore had robbed me from my only source of warmth. I started to shiver uncontrollably and noticed I now had a runny nose. _'Great, I caught a cold.'_

"What wrong with him?," Daryl asked while motioning his head in the direction of Jacques who proceeded sleeping soundly.

I shrugged my shoulders while thinking _'there are a lot of things wrong with that boy'_. I felt let down by Jacques, betraying me at the first chance he got. It was just the two of us before and we were managing just fine! If he had just untied me, I would have been able to escape this place and would have had at least half a mile advantage before Daryl and Rick would have even noticed my disappearance. But no, Jacques wanted to take a fucking nap. I thought I was bitten by a big rat earlier today, well I was wrong. The real rat was sleeping in the chair right behind me, letting out short snores.

Rick opened the curtains which allowed the light to fill the room. This meant that I was finally able to take a good look at my surroundings and my capturers.

I was right when I guessed I was in some sort of cottage. But the windows were too high for me to look outside so the exact location of where I was held remained a mystery to me.

Rick looked like a nice guy. The real friendly type even though his eyes were currently screaming 'cooperate with me, or else' at me. Apart from the beard, he looked rather tidied up. His clothes seemed clean, somewhat worn-off but clean nonetheless. So maybe these people had like a bathroom or a washing place of some sorts where they could clean themselves. But then I looked at Daryl and I quickly reconsidered that last thought. Because Daryl… Well, let's just say he was an entirely different story. I don't really know what word could fully describe the way he looked, somehow I even doubted that there was a word in the Oxford dictionary found sufficient enough to do so. Plus, I'm sure that just one word wouldn't be enough. Things with Daryl were more complicated. But I can, however, most definitely tell you that cleanness was not something that came to my mind while I quickly gazed over his outfit.

Both men were now observing my reaction to them. Not saying a word, though, just looking at me. Did they want me to say something? Bored by their indifference, my eyes continued their glance over the rest of the cottage. In the corner of the room I noticed a pale looking, red-eyed girl who was looking straight back at me. The appearance of the girl spooked me and I had almost let out another swear-word but then realisation hit me that I, in fact, was that girl.

It had taken me several seconds before I had convinced myself that it was really my image the mirror was reflecting. The last time I remember seeing a reflection of my face was a couple of months ago, when the water of the lake wasn't frozen yet. And even then it had only been a very unclear and wrinkling image, not really ideal to fully judge the state of my physical appearance. But now that I could see myself clearly I wished that I had not looked into the mirror in the first place. I looked dirty, really dirty. Like I had just had a one-on-one fight in the mud or something. And that is not even considering what I would smell like. Like a fucking pig I can imagine. For once in my life I was happy to have a runny nose so at least I didn't have to smell myself.

I had already deducted that the reflection of myself looked like a mess. And that was even before noticing that my teeth, due to the lack of a toothbrush, had turned cigarette-yellow. Not to mention the amount of knots that had invaded my long auburn hair. I was going to have to cut it off, there was no way I could possibly get all of them out. And on top of that I could see how skinny I had become. It looked like I was floating in my jacket instead of actually wearing it. I already knew that I had lost some weight but the girl staring back at me looked famished to say the least. So okay, I'll admit it, maybe we did need some help after all.

"Your repeated refusal to answer a simple question has left me no other choice than going through your personal belongings."

Rick sounded like one of those customs officers at the airport who distrusted every foreigner strolling through the metal detectors. That one officer who still lacked the trust in the efficient working of the security gates and found it necessary to frisk the 'suspect'. The suspect in this situation being yours truly, of course.

When I saw him pull out the bag with all of Jacques' and my personal stuff my heart started to raise. He pulled out two plastic bags, the blue one was containing all of Jacques' things, the red one was all mine. I felt relieved as Rick grabbed for the blue plastic bag first and started digging through it. Of course I did realize that this was just a stay of execution. It would be my turn after Jacques'.

"A couple of photos, a bottle of Southern Comfort, some boxers, a roll of toilet paper, a toothbrush…"

We found that one toothbrush a couple of weeks ago. Only Jacques had hid it from me and taken it for himself to use. I was furious when I had found out. Selfish prick, he didn't even wanted to share it. The funny about it, however, was that we didn't have any toothpaste so Jacques decided it was a good idea to brush his teeth with whiskey 'because alcohol is the perfect immunization against germs'. I wondered if there is a form of immunization for idiotism. Man, I'd pay a lot of money for it if it would keep people like Jacques away from me.

"… and a passport."

Rick's voice had interrupted my train of thought and brought me back to the present situation I was in.

"Jacques Albert, male, 20 years old, born in Quebec, Canada. That you, boy?"

"Hey, wake the fuck up, Rick asked you a question!," Daryl yelled in Jacques face while shaking his shoulders. Jacques who abruptly woke up from his dream, fell off the chair onto the ground and stared straight into the face of an angry Daryl.

"Fils de pute." That hateful statement alone could tell you already that Jacques had been the reason why I had started to use profanity as often as I did. Spending all this months with him had really changed my vocabulary use for the worse.

"What did you just call me?" Daryl as observant as he was, realised very well that it had be something insulting.

"Fils de pute," Jacques bluntly repeated, not realising that Daryl Dixon was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. Everything he said was just adding fuel to the fire.

Daryl turned to me. "What does that mean?"

Let's see I have two options here. Lie to Daryl and save Jacques' ass or be truthful to Daryl and watch Jacques' ass take a beating instead.

Dilemmas, dilemmas...

Forgetting about the whole kidnapping-incident for a second, Daryl had been quite the gentleman to me before, getting the rat of my leg and letting me get warmer by dragging me towards the fire. Furthermore, I didn't believe he deserved Jacques' patronizing remark so I decided to go for the latter option.

"Do you want me to translate that literally for you or can I give my own interpretation?" I knew I was going to enjoy this far more than I should.

"The fuck does it matter?" I like Daryl, a true man of simplicity, isn't he? No time for bullshit, just straight to point.

"Literally it means 'son of a whore', indirectly translated it means 'son of a bitch'."

I could see Jacques' face turn pale as he grew aware of the fact that Daryl was going to punch him in the face. Seeing the fear in Jacques' eyes made me realise my mistake. As the guilt started to wash over me I quickly added, "He's drunk, he doesn't know what he's saying."

Truthfully I was just making up an excuse for him. Because either way, sober or drunk, Jacques hardly ever knew how much harm his words could do to himself or others.

"He's drunk?," Rick asked. I had managed to grasp the attention of both men and felt slightly relieved that Daryl decided against beating Jacques.

"That's what I just said," I replied irritated.

"But he's only 20 years old?" I didn't understand the point that Rick was trying to make, so I just shuddered my shoulders.

"So? You a police officer are something?" I hoped that my sarcastic response was enough to end this discussion that did not seem to be leading anywhere. What Rick said next, however, made me want to swallow my tongue.

"Yeah, I'm a sheriff's deputy," Rick replied.

Quite frankly, I had not seen that coming. It did explain his entire authorising attitude, the interrogation, how he tried to make everything sound official,…. I really should have figured that one out on my own.

"Not that matters anymore now," Rick said with a disappointed tone. Was he disappointed in Jacques for drinking? Disappointed in me for allowing it? Or was Rick just experiencing the common feeling of nostalgia and was he in fact just disappointed at the sudden loss of his job? I honestly couldn't tell and nor could Daryl by the look of his frowning face.

After Rick's brief melancholic pause during which I could see several different emotions transform his face from frowns into smiles and vice versa, I saw him glancing over at the red plastic bag. The bag filled with all my personal stuff. Not that it was a big bag or that there was a lot of valuable things in it, but it was all mine. I did not have anything else left, that bag represented my entire existence. Needless to say, I really did not like the thought of someone touching it.


	3. Show and Tell

**CHAPTER 3: SHOW AND TELL**

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Like a trained magician would pull a rabbit out of hat, Rick put his hand into my bag and pulled out a pair of knickers, some socks and a small bottle of water. Rick continued emptying out my bag by pulling out a spare T-shirt which had something written on it I couldn't read, but I could tell by the Daryl's and Rick's reaction it had to be something rather funny. Next up were a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, my most precious possessions, and a couple of tampons which made my cheeks turn red and look away in embarrassment. Both Daryl and Rick, however, remained unaffected by them. In fact, it wasn't until Rick had found my passport that he stopped digging through my bag and started reading.

"Zahara Skylar Dubois, of female gender" I didn't understand his need to say that last part out loud because according to me the tampons should have already told Rick that much, "born in Bruxelles, Belgium, 26 years old." _'Yep, that sounds like me. That pretty much sums up my life so far.' _I thought.

"What a weird name," Daryl commented.

"Well, it's not like I had any say in it."

I don't have to take a remark like that coming from a man named Daryl Dixon. Because what Dixonboy over there doesn't know was that I used to have a washing-powder named 'Dixon' of which the slogan was 'No matter how dirty, Dixon can finish the job'. The irony of the muddy man standing before me and the box of washing powder that used to stand on my kitchen-shelf was too overwhelming for me not to let out a short laugh.

"How do you spell that name anyway?" Completely ignoring my previous short exclamation of laughter, Daryl looked at me genuinely expecting me to answer his question.

"Euh…" I looked him straight in his eyes as I was trying to think of a quick exit out of this situation.

Rick, completely unaware that he was about to save me from eternal embarrassment, passed him the passport.

"Zahara, that Spanish, or sumthing," to my utter surprise Daryl seemed to be intrigued by my name.

"Arabic actually." Daryl looked at me and nodded as if to say 'do continue'.

"My father is a fourth generation Arabian. Even though he doesn't look Arabian at all, he is very proud of his origin and ancestors so he named me after his great-grandmother, who he never even met."

I hated that that was the origin behind my name. 'Zahara' literally means 'exotic princess' which are two words I would never use to describe myself. After all, I didn't have any exotic features, I was more like the palest kid in town and a 'princess' I certainly wasn't either.

I looked down at my lap as I said the following words very carefully to make sure that both men understood me clearly. "But I don't want you to call me Zahara," Thinking back at the only man who ever did, "the name 'Skylar' is a much better fit for me."

"'Skylar' it is then," Rick nodded approvingly. I smiled back up at him hoping that he would not see the falseness that was hidden behind it.

Daryl, nevertheless, did not seem to be satisfied with my response and continued asking me questions. "Then how come you can speak French and yet sound so British?"

"My mother was British and my father was born and raised in the French part of Belgium," I replied shortly hoping this would satisfy his sudden curiosity about my ancestry.

But Daryl just continued, "Were you also born and raised in – ,"

The sound of a plastic bag being moved around pulled my attention away from Daryl and back to Rick who was once again digging his hands through my personal stuff.

"Could you stop doing that?," I asked.

No response.

"Rick?"

Still no response.

"You know my name now, that has to be enough."

Regardless of my plea, Rick kept digging through the bag until he pulled out a golden medallion.

"What's this?," Rick asked while handing it to Daryl.

"Just some necklace, nothing more, now if you could just put all the stuff back into my bag that would be –"

"Just a necklace?," Daryl asked while trying to open the medallion.

"Yeah, just some necklace, could you please just give it back to me now?"

"That ain't just some necklace you got there, girl. All nice and golden like that. Why don't you wear it around your neck? You afraid someone might steal it?," Daryl asked.

"The chain broke and I haven't had time to fix it yet."

"Give it to me, Daryl, before you break it. I gave one of these to Lori when for our first wedding anniversary. Look, you can open it like this," Rick showed Daryl, "and then you can see the picture inside of it."

Both men were now unashamedly looking at the picture in the medallion, like they didn't care at all that they had just invaded my privacy.

"That a picture of him?," Daryl motioned his head towards Jacques.

"It's not Jacques in the picture, that was my brother." I understood Daryl's confusion because Jacques really did look like my brother. They had the same blond hair, the same facial features and my brother was also around the age of twenty when that picture was taken. The fact that Jacques looked so much like my brother was one of the reasons why I started hanging out with him in the first place and why I still after all this time put up with his misbehaviour.

"Was? He got bit or sumthing?," Daryl asked.

I tried to put my hands in front of my face as I felt tears fill my eyes at the memory of my brother, completely forgetting that my hands were still tied to the chair. The cop caught my subtle movement and turned towards Daryl.

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Daryl. Could you please untie Skylar? I can tell the ropes are starting to feel uncomfortable."

Daryl immediately pulled out this big hunter knife and walked towards me. I could tell by his reaction that he had seen my water-filled eyes and for the second time that day he genuinely believed that he was the reason behind my worrying. As he bended over my left-side to cut the rope at the back of my chair he whispered in my left-ear, "I won't hurt you, girl."

As soon as he sat before me and started to get the rope out of my way, I gave him another one of my best fake smiles and replied "I know you won't."

* * *

**A/N: **I don't know if you guys notice but I'm sort of implying here that Skylar can't read or write. So when Daryl asks her to spell her own name, she starts to freak out a bit and hopes she won't look like an idiot.


	4. The Cut

**CHAPTER 4: THE CUT**

* * *

Daryl managed to get all the ropes of my body in less than ten seconds.

"Ready to meet the rest of the family?" Daryl's little joke managed to bring a smile to my face. Did that mean I was allowed to stay? I had to ask to make sure.

"So I can stay?"

"Yes," Daryl simply responded as if that wasn't a big deal.

"Yeah, we already talked about it with the entire group and came to the decision that it would be best for both parties." I didn't understand what Rick meant with that last part. Both parties being who? Me and the group? Did they think I was going to be useful to them? Wouldn't I be a burden?

"But maybe before we take you to the others you should to take a shower. It would make you look…,"I looked from Daryl's face over to Rick's ", more friendly and less euh you know …"

"I believe spooky is the word you're looking for," I quickly added. Given that just moments ago I had scared myself terribly by just looking into the mirror, I knew exactly what Rick was trying to say. I knew what I looked like and a pretty sight it certainly was not.

"What happens to Jacques?" I had almost forgotten about the boy if it hadn't been for the soft snoring sound in the background.

"He can stay right where is. Sleep off that nasty hangover," Daryl suggested.

"No, I meant can he stay too?" His behaviour towards Daryl had already implied that he was going to be a troublemaker.

"Yes, we saved the both of you. You're are both our responsibility now. Just don't make us regret our decision, Skylar," Rick said with a stern voice.

"I know I won't, but I can't speak for Jacques though."

"Let's just wait it out. Let him have his rest and afterwards I will introduce him to the rest of the group. Revaluate the situation then." Rick may have lost his job, he still spoke as a true cop.

"Daryl, you take her to the showers so you can take one yourself," I started grinning when I heard Rick not so subtle suggestion, "I'll restart the fire to make sure that the boy doesn't freeze to death in his sleep."

Daryl helped me get up and held my arm as he guided me towards the door. In the process of me getting up from the chair, the blanket that covered the bitten hole located at my thigh had fallen off.

"Fuck!"

Daryl turned around as soon as he heard me swearing. After he found the reason of my spontaneous use of profanity he took the blanket off the ground and put it back on my bare flesh.

"Just hold it there while we walk. It's not very far, anyway".

As he was standing so close to me I noticed that Daryl was only two or three centimetres taller than me. This allowed me to take a good look at his blue eyes again.

"Oh, one more thing, Skylar," Rick interrupted my staring. "Could you leave a note for Jack in French or something for when he wakes up so he knows where to find us?"

_'Quick, quick, make up of an excuse,'_ I thought.

"Yeah, Jacques is French-Canadian but he can understand English just fine. So , I mean, you could write the note yourself. Plus, my hands are almost frozen off, not sure I can do a lot of writing right now," I said somewhat awkwardly. I surprised myself there, thinking so fast of not only one but two excuses for not having to write anything down. I was becoming good at lying fast.

"Okay, now that's sorted out. Let's go take that shower now." Daryl grabbed my arm again and this time we managed to get through the door without another interruption.

As we walked out of the door of the cottage I felt the cold surrounding my body once again. I immediately felt the urge to walk back into the cabin where it was also cold, but where the air was not as icy as it was outside. But Daryl was being very persistent and just pulled a bit harder at my arm.

"I swear the showers are not that far," Daryl said in a feeble attempt to motivate me to walk faster.

"If you say so I guess. Are we at a secondary school or something?" I asked as we walked across a playground that had now found its new use as a parking lot. I could see three different cars and one motorbike. That probably meant that this group of survivors still had to be big if they needed all four vehicles to transport themselves. The thought of meeting so many new people made me feel a little unsteady.

"A highschool actually," Daryl responded while gazing in the same direction as me. Isn't that the same thing as a secondary school? Pff, never understood all the differences between American and British English. Doesn't matter now, anyway.

"There are showers in that building right there." Daryl pointed towards a brick building with solar panels on top. Solar panels? Could that mean…?

"Is there warm water?"

"Yup."

The prospect of finally being able to take a warm shower had really motivated me in increasing my speed of walking. All the way up to the point that I was the one walking in front of Daryl and he was the one tagging along. It was only a two-hundred-metre walk, but I felt chilled to the bone and wanted to take a warm shower asap.

"Jeez, someone's eager." I heard him say as we finally reached the building.

Inside I could see towels, ready to be used, spread out on a wooden bench. Wow, this was really happening, I was going to take a shower and wash my hair. I touched the towels as if that would assure me that they were really lying there. Man, they felt so soft. Next to the towels was a little plastic bag with a toothbrush, some soap, shampoo and even three razors.

"That's all for you," Daryl said as he noticed my surprised reaction. I couldn't believe my luck. I wanted to start doing a little victory dance but then I heard Daryl who stood behind me sigh.

"Take your jacket off."

"What?" I turned around to face him.

"It's completely ruined anyway. I'll toss it away."

"Euh okay." I tried to do what he asked of me as quickly as possible but the zipper was stuck due to all the dirt.

"Let me do it," Daryl said and before I knew it he was standing before me and had taken over my task.

"Yeah, okay," I murmured uncomfortably at the short distance between him and me.

Daryl mumbled something that sounded like 'Shit, it ain't coming off'. Then I saw him pull out his knife again and before I could stop him he started cutting through the fabric of my winter coat. I had really hoped that a measure that desperate would not have been necessary because it was the only jacket I had. Furthermore, I didn't want to use someone else's coat if that meant they would have to be cold.

He slid the coat of my shoulders and took in the rest of my damaged clothes. "Shit girl, you've been rolling in the mud or something?" I couldn't think of any clever response with him standing so close to me.

"Look, I'll ask Lori if you can use some of her clothes, I think you're about the same size anyway. But these " he pointed at my sweater and pair of jeans, "have got to go." I smiled slightly as he said that last part. He sounded like that gay guy from America's next Topmodel. Daryl turned back around leaving me standing there with a grin on my face as he started walking off in search of my new clothes. _'Stop looking at his bum, Skylar,'_ I shook my head and looked inside the tiny shower booth.

"Bon, je vais prendre une douche maintenant, because I fucking deserve it!", I said to no one but myself. I always start mixing up French and English in one sentence when I'm completely worn out.

I undressed quickly, jumped into the little cubicle and turned the shower on. The water was a bit cold at first but gradually started to get warmer and warmer up to the point that the booth started to fill itself with steam.

As I looked down at my legs I saw disgusting brown water flow off my body. All sorts of dirt, mud, blood of zombies, I believe 'walker' was the term Daryl used, and other filth were now making their way down in the drain of the shower. It took a couple of minutes before the water started to turn towards a more natural colour again. I took some shampoo and put it in my hair. As I started to rub it into my hair I became aware of certain sounds of delight that I started to make but I couldn't help myself. The shampoo just felt and smelled so great. Next up, I soaped my entire body in and took one of the three razors someone considerate, I bet it was a woman, had put into the plastic bag. I started to shave my armpits with one of them but after doing so I noticed how much hair was already stuck in that one razor. So I immediately had to use another razor for my left leg and the last one for my right leg. Just as I was rinsing off all the rest of the soap I heard the door of the building open and close again. I quickly turned off the shower and put one of the soft towels around my body. I stepped out of the little cabin and looked around.

"Hello? Someone there?," I asked.

"Yeah, it's Daryl," He stepped from behind a row of the lockers, "I brought ya some clothes and … Oh, holy shit. Sorry!" He turned around and put one of his hands over his eyes while his other hand was holding the clothes, "Ya really ought to give a man a warning if ya decide to stand around naked."

"I'm not naked, Daryl. I've got a towel on." Well, it was true and the towel was covering most of my body. Only my arms and the bottom half of legs were visible.

He turned back to me slowly while tentatively taking a peek through his fingers, "Oh, okay."

"Here they are, " Daryl said uncomfortably while motioning his left hand a bit higher.

My left hand held the towel close to my body, so I stretched out my right hand in order for Daryl to hand me the clothes. But instead of giving them in my hands Daryl just put them on the wooden bench. Confused as to why he wouldn't just give them in my hands I looked at him questionably. Had I made feel him uncomfortable or something that he didn't want to be near me anymore? I stepped towards the wooden bench and reached out my right hand to grab the pile of clothes. Daryl placed his hand on mine and thus I stopped my movement.

"No. Ya can't put them on yet," he said hesitantly while lowering his gaze to his feet. Standing so close to him I could tell he was really uneasy. Why was he acting so differently with me now? Because I was in a towel? I hadn't Daryl imaged as being a shy guy around women.

"Why not?"

"I ... euh," Daryl looked up from the ground and into my eyes, "I have to check you for walker bites or scratches."

"Oh." I now understood his strange and awkward behaviour. I realized that this meant a complete body check. Every tattoo, freckle and scar that marked my skin would be visible for him.

"The others asked me to do it, ya know, it's not sumthin' I wanna do," Daryl said, moving his weight from his right to his left leg.

"Yeah, of course," I mumbled not really knowing what else to say. I understood that it was necessary, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

"But can't someone else do it?" He looked at me with a big frown covering his forehead "You know, like someone who isn't male?"

"We don't want to put the others at risk," he simply responded.

I knew that wasn't the real reason why the others had asked Daryl to check my body for bites and scratches. They had asked him to do it because if certain bites and scratches were indeed found he was going to have to take care of it immediately. And by that I mean killing me, of course, given that there wasn't a cure yet. The mere fact that the others had asked Daryl to take care of this did not only tell me something about how the others looked at Daryl. But it also said a lot about Daryl's personality on its own. It said how much he was willing to do for the survival of this group. He'd be perfectly okay with killing me. Well, maybe not 'perfectly okay', because I did see his hands had started to tremble.

"Why didn't you just check me for bites while I was unconscious?"

"I don't touch strange girls when they're unconscious," Daryl said, shaking his head, "Plus, no disrespect, but ya smelled pretty bad."

"Fine then," I said hesitantly. I was positive that I did not have walker bites or scratches and if this was what it would take to become a member of the group….

"Okay?" Surprised at my quick affirmation, his blue eyes stared back into my green ones. "Yeah, okay, let's do this," He said somewhat awkwardly.

I nodded. "But how exactly do you want do it?"

"Put this on." He handed me a black bra and a pair of clean purple knickers. "Whenever you're ready."

I walked back into the booth and quickly put the bra and knickers on while thinking 'let's get it over with'. I mean, I'm sure Daryl has seen tons of girls in their panties before. Naked probably, too. Well, I hope for him anyway… _'Oh god, what is this? Why am I thinking about Daryl seeing other naked women all of the sudden? Am I freaking out?'_

A sudden feeling of shyness made me decide to put the towel back around my body before walking out of the little cubicle. By the time I opened the door of the booth Daryl had taken a seat on the wooden bench next to the pile of clothes.

"What's that? There is blood on your leg?"

"What? Where? Oh, merde!" There was blood on the bottom half of my right leg apparently.

"Sumthing you wanna tell me," Daryl asked with an accusing tone.

"It not from a scratch of a zombie!"

"Walker," He corrected.

"Yes. I mean no, it's not from a walker."

"Then how did ya get it?"

"I shaved my legs, okay. Without shaving crème. I must have cut myself like that or something." Even when I did use shaving crème I would always end up with a cut somewhere. I was clumsy before the end of the world, I would be clumsy until the day I die.

"Or sumthing? You better not be lying to me, girl!", Daryl was yelling at me. I felt my eyes starting to fill with tears as I feared for the consequences this clumsy action could bring me.

"Please, you have to believe me, Daryl!," I pleaded. Was this it? Was a razor-cut going to be the end of me?

"Show me the razor." I immediately grabbed all three of them out of the booth and walked back to Daryl. As I handed them over he saw tears streaming down my face.

"Just please stop crying," He said before very carefully examining them one by one. My heart started to pound really hard into my chest as I saw him put down the first razor without any indication of blood on it. The second razor followed soon after. My breathing, just like my heart rate, had now quickened its pace to an uncomfortable speed. But I remained hopeful and I could say the same for Daryl because he was taking more time examining the final razor.

"Yeah, there's some skin on this one," He said as he held it out. I didn't see anything except hair though. Was he lying to me? Was he lying about this to himself so he didn't have to do what I feared for?

"Ya see?," I didn't see the imagery skin but I still nodded, "Nothing to be worried about. Let me just quickly whip that blood of your leg and then we'll forget all about it."

Daryl sat himself back down on the wooden bench and ripped of a piece of my old T-shirt. He put my foot up the wooden bench so my right leg was now in a 90 degree angle.

"Just make sure that the others don't see this, okay? They don't have to know about this," Daryl said as he started to clean up my leg. That confirmed what I was thinking before. He was going to lie for me. He was going to go to the others and say that he hadn't seen anything.

_Why would he do that for? I mean, I'm a complete stranger to him, I could be lying to him for all he knows. Why does he trust me blindly, anyway? I've done nothing yet to earn his trust. Am I supposed to say 'thank you' to him now or just pretend that I don't know that he is going to lie to the others in order to let me stay here. _

I watched Daryl as his eyes slowly followed the movement of his hands. Thank God that the small wound was on the lower half of my legs and that I was still wearing the towel. I could feel myself starting to get warm as his hands found their way up my leg.

"All done," he said, proud of his own work. I looked from his eyes to my leg and he had indeed done a fine job. The small cut wasn't even bleeding anymore. I looked back into his eyes that were smiling at me. His mouth, however, was firmly kept closed and did not show any sign of happiness, in fact it showed a certain degree of concentration. Like he was trying to think of something else to say.

"Thanks, Daryl." I said barely audible for him to hear.

"'S nothing. Only took like twenty seconds to clean." I glanced back over at his hands that still rested on my right leg.

"That's not what I said thank you for." That little comment made both his eyes _and_ mouth smile back at me. I could see his, surprisingly white teeth and a couple of laughing wrinkles appear. That small act did not only made him look handsome but also very undeniable. I felt one of his hands tighten his hold on my leg so I quickly pulled my leg of the wooden bench and therefore lost all touch with his warmth.

"Let's just go on and get this over with, okay?" I tried to sound serious, but for some reason it wasn't working because I could hear my voice crack at the ending of that sentence.

"Then ya have to let go of the towel, girl," Daryl said, standing up from the bench.

I did not respond nor move.

"Skylar," that was the first time he said my name, "let go of the towel."

I didn't move an inch and grasped the towel even tighter.

"I won't take advantage of you. I really won't," he said softly, looking in my eyes.

I knew that much already, I just liked that he said it out loud. Like a conformation of an unspoken bond we had started developing. For some reason I was convinced that Daryl was a man of his word.

"You won't hurt me." It wasn't a question I asked, it was more of a statement.

"No, Skylar, I won't." As he said those words I let both my towel and gaze drop to the floor.

"I'm not going to touch again - ", he stopped mid-sentence and inhaled air quickly but after a moment of doubt I heard him continue on ,"… I'm just going to take a quick look."

I knew what he had seen, what had made him pause in his speech. I completely understood his reaction because the scars on my back were quite the sight to say the least. I was however surprised that he didn't even say anything about it. I have had doctors, people who you'd expect to be trained for these kind of situations, go pale and react in utter abomination as they took in the damage my father had indirectly done to me. They have been a part of me for over ten years now and even I am horrified by how repulsive they look. I consider it a blessing that I only have scars on my back and nowhere else. At least that way I don't have to look at them constantly.

I could feel myself getting goose bumps due to the combination of the cold and Daryl's stare. While I felt Daryl's eyes starting to scan my skin for more recent wounds, I kept my vision locked on the floor for several minutes as if the most important event of the year was taking place on the square orange tiles. That was until Daryl bended over in order to regain the attention of my eyes.

"It's okay," he said, almost whispered even. _Why do I have the feeling, he isn't just talking about the body-check but is in fact referring to my scarring?_

"I'm gonna take a shower now, so you can get fully dressed. I know it's cold in here but just wait for me on the bench."

I nodded even though his back was already turned and he could no longer see my face. As I sat down on the bench, I started thinking about the things to come. I was going to meet a whole lot of people. Males, not sure how I felt about that. If they were all like Rick and Daryl I suppose it'd be fine. A couple of females, one of them named Lori apparently. Very nice of her to hand me all those hygiene supplies, sharing with a stranger like that. Jacques told me that there were infants too. This was the one thing I was really nervous about. I'm not good with children, not at all. I think it's because I never really had the chance to be one myself. I already had a lot of responsibilities and duties at a very young age. Too young of age, in fact.

I looked at the pile of clothes lying next to me. To my surprise I noticed that there weren't any trousers among them, only a skirt. _'So maybe it was a good thing after all that I shaved'_.

I put the skirt, which fell just above the knees, on followed by a white tank-top, a white knitted sweater and a pair of thigh high stockings. I still used my old boots obviously because good shoes are rarely found, especially nowadays. I looked at myself in the mirror above the sink. I looked better, still tired but there was a remarkable difference with the reflexion of myself that I saw earlier today.

I heard Daryl turn off the shower just as my eyes started to close. Man, I was going to sleep like a baby tonight. They were going to give me a place to sleep. Fingers-crossed it is not on the floor, that would be a nice change. Mind you, I'd probably sleep just as peacefully on the floor because people were going to keep watch tonight so it was safe to sleep an entire night all the way through.

A clean Daryl with fresh clothes stepped out the booth and walked toward me.

"I noticed you had some red lines on your arms from the ropes. I can ask Hershel to give you a lotion or sumthing to rub on your skin."

Him and I both realized very well that he had noticed much more that those just red lines on my skin. I was glad however that he decided not to make a fuzz about it.

He started combing his hair in front of the mirror and then handed it to me. As I began to comb out my knotted hair Daryl noticed my struggle, took the comb from me in one swift movement and tried to ravel my wet hair out himself.

"Maybe you should just cut it off, it is getting too long anyway."

"You sure about that, Skylar?" Daryl asked me as if I was about to make a drastic life-change. In a way it was a big change because I have had my hair at mid-back length for so long. But these knots were just not going to come out with a bit of combing, even if Daryl put all his force on the comb and pulled at my hair roughly.

"Yes, 100 per cent sure."

"Want me to do it?"

I nodded.

"I don't think we have a pair of scissors, though, I'll have to use my knife."

"Knife is fine," I agreed. I just wanted Daryl to do it quickly before I would change my mind.

"How long do you want it?" I pointed towards my shoulders.

"Shoulder-length? Yeah, I can do that," Daryl replied confidently.

It took him about a minute to cut off the hair that I had been saving for years.

"There you go."

I could tell he was waiting for my reaction.

"I really like it. Thanks, Daryl." I meant it, he had surprised me at how skilled he was with that knife because he had managed to cut it off really straight.

"Yeah, not too bad for someone who had never cut someone's hair off before."

"Really? You wouldn't say. I'm glad you didn't tell me that before you started cutting, I might have not gone through with it."

I wasn't mad at myself for making the impulsive decision, though. The new haircut felt remarkably good, liberating even.

It marked the beginning of something new.


	5. Meet the family

**CHAPTER 5: MEET THE FAMILY**

* * *

Everyone shook my hand.

I tried to apply the advice my therapist had given me when meeting new people and made sure to have eye-contact with each of them while shaking their hands. I repeated their names as much as possible in my head, just to make sure I wouldn't forget them.

Carol, was the short-haired woman that gave me that sad smile of which you could tell she lost someone recently.

Maggie and Beth who were sisters apparently, although I couldn't see any physical prove of that.

Hershel, their father, the one who, due to the current situation, was promoted from vet to doctor.

Rick and his wife Lori, who I made sure to thank for the clothes she gave to me.

And then there was T-Dog. He was the one that gave me that firm hug saying how good it was to meet new people in these dark times.

The fact that everyone in this group seemed to be so touchy-feely with each other both confused and scared me. '_Do they expect me to behave in the same way too?_

"Now we just have to give her a place to sleep and she's officially a part of this group," Daryl said while placing both his hands on my shoulders and squeezing them softly.

But the physical contact felt welcoming and encouraging too, especially the way Daryl was touching me right now. _'Is this what it is like to have a family?'_ The thought that things might turn out alright after all crossed my mind.

I knew the peacefulness was over the second I heard a door being slammed shut and I saw Jacques walk over to me. I could tell by the pace and the way of walking he was still mad about what happened between him and Daryl. I had hoped that he'd have forgotten the whole thing but I realize now that was just wishful thinking on my part.

"Get your dirty hands of her," Jacques commanded.

Jacques was trying to push me away from Daryl's grasp but Daryl just pulled me behind him so Jacques couldn't get anywhere near me.

"Let me just clarify something for you and I'll try to use simple terms so you can understand it fully. The girl is sleeping with ME and she will not come anywhere near a stupid redneck like yourself," Jacques yelled in Daryl's face.

"Yeah, you asked her about that, or you just makin' the decisions for her now."

"What is it, Daryl? Are you too blind or too dumb to realize she just not interested in you? I bet it's the latter, did you even pass first-grade?"

"Da fuck did I ever did to you?"

I could tell that Daryl was trying to control his temper but it was getting harder and harder. Judging by the look on Daryl's face, Jacques really drew blood.

"Dude, you're even dumber than you look. Look, Daryl, I'll try being nicer to you, if you'll try being smarter," Jacques replied with a sarcastic tone.

"Stop being so rude, Jacques. These people have been nothing but kind to you," I whispered to him.

"Fuck that. I'm not being rude. Daryl's opinion of where you sleep is completely insignificant."

"I'm sorry but who the hell are you?," T-Dog asked.

Daryl used this temporary distraction to guide me to the other side of the room in order to create some distance between Jacques and me.

"The name is Jacques Albert," Jacques said with a sweet voice as he turned around to the others, with a big smile on his face.

"So your first name is Jack or Albert?," Maggie spoke up but I could tell she wasn't the only one in the room who was confused.

"It's Jacques actually, not Jack," he replied while shaking Maggie's hand, "but you can call me anything you want," he said while winking at Maggie.

"Euh yeah okay," Maggie replied while trying to pull her hand back, "Jack it is then."

"The only thing your eyes haven't told me is your name. What's your name, beautiful?"

"Yeah, I guess ya do really need a Ph.D. to come up with a pickup-line like that," Daryl grunted loudly.

"Watch and learn, Daryl. You might be able to woo a lady after seeing me doing what I do best. Unless that isn't your cup of tea, of course."

"What that supposed to mean? You implying sumthing?"

"Not implying anything, Daryl. I'm saying you like sucking dick."

Daryl quickly shorted the distance between Jacques and himself and had almost punched him the face had it not been for both Rick's and T-Dog's quick reaction. They were both able to keep Daryl at a safe distance before he could hurt Jacques. But Jacques, however, was not in any way alarmed by the threating move Daryl had made and proceeded insulting him.

"Dude, you're so flaming, you're practically on fire. I would stomp you out, but I don't want my foot to catch AIDS."

That insulting comment just added more fuel to the fire and I could tell that T-Dog and Rick had even more trouble controlling Daryl's anger.

"Ya best shut up, boy! Cuz I'm already visualizing the masking tape that I'm going to put over your filthy mouth," Daryl yelled back.

I could tell that wasn't going to be enough to stop Jacques' insulting behaviour. If anything, it was just going to motivate him to keep offending and provoking Daryl. So I made an impulsive decision, I walked over at Jacques and kneed him in the groin.

Jacques started squirming on the ground like a little girl. I didn't know much about martial arts but that little playground trick always worked.

"Merde, Jacques, il faut être plus poli, compris?" I told him that he needed to be nicer. After all, if we wanted to stay as long as possible in this group we were going to have treat these people with respect and adapt to whatever rules they were going to force on us.

I noticed how everyone around us had become really quiet. Even Daryl had stopped his attempt at passing Rick and T-Dog in order to hit Jacques. Everyone seemed taking aback that I had just hit Jacques in the groin.

"What? He deserved it, didn't he?," I asked, still surprised at their looks of pure shock.

It did shut him up and it made Daryl stop trying to beat him up, so I didn't see why everyone was staring at me like that.

"Amen to that," T-Dog replied.

Rick just shook his head and said "Skylar, I don't want you to speak French anymore, you understand? It's really impolite because we have no idea what you're saying."

I could have said something about how that was ironic knowing that I had just asked Jacques to be more polite in French but I was too tired to care anymore, so I just nodded affirmatively.

"Maggie, could you grab some snow outside and give it to our friend over here," Rick said while pointing at Jack, "To put on his –," Rick was interrupted by the creaking of a door through which walked in this Asian kid and boy with a sheriff head. "… That will probably help with the swelling. Carl, Glenn, come over here."

Rick put his hand protectively over the boy's shoulder. If the sheriff's head hadn't been enough to confirm my suspicions then it would have been the undeniable similarity in appearance between Rick and the boy standing before him.

"Skylar, this is my son, Carl."

I held out my hand and the boy shook it firmly.

"And this right here, is Glenn."

"Hey, name's Skylar," I said, shaking Glenn's hand.

"And who's that?" Glenn pointed at Jacques who was still rolling around on the ground.

"That is Jacques."

"Euh why… – why is he rolling around like that,?" Glenn asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, "Let's just say he's a bit of a drama queen and that he always likes to make a big entrance."

"Hi, my name is Glenn," Glenn stuck out his hand but Jacques just continued his rolling over movement while making a squeaking sound.

"Don't take it personally, Glenn. The guy just had a lesson in etiquette from the new girl over there," Daryl said while winking at me. I was glad Daryl had found his good sense of humour again.

Still confused about the whole situation Glenn just nodded. But he quickly put two and two together when he saw Maggie give some snow to Jacques, who then put it on his crotch.

"Now you've been introduced to everyone, I suggest you go grab something to eat," Rick said to me.

"You're not joining us?," I asked.

"No, Daryl and I have watch for the next couple of hours. We'll just eat afterwards."

"Oh okay," I replied slightly disappointed.

They were the only people of this group that I knew longer than ten minutes. It was weird but I felt like I knew Daryl and Rick already really well, even though we had just met today. In spite of the fact that the others of the group had just introduced themselves to me in a very welcoming way, they still felt like a bunch of strangers to me and now I was going to have dinner with them?

Dinner was awkward to say the least. Everybody kept asking me these questions like 'Where do you come from? Did you know Jack before all this?' et cetera. I just grunted and mumbled a lot of my responses because frankly I didn't think the group really needed to know all that stuff about me. I tried to avert attention from me by posing a couple of questions myself. Glenn gladly filled me in on all the disastrous events the group had gone through so far. I genuinely tried to listen but I was so tired I just started to nod my head pretending I was paying attention.

I was just wondering when they were finally going to tell me where I could sleep. I didn't understand all this bonding time the group found so necessary. But I didn't want to leave either because that would probably be considered impolite and the only fireplace I saw was in here.

I guess Jacques' feeling of hunger was bigger than his feeling of embarrassment, because he decided to join us after an hour or so. He didn't look at me once, though. I probably hurt his ego more than his nether region.

Finally after what seemed to be the longest and most uncomfortable dinner, Daryl and Rick made their way back into the refectory and T-Dog and Hershel took over watch duties. Carol tried her best reheating the food which Rick and Daryl both gratefully accepted. Even though it wasn't particularly tasty, nobody complained about the homemade beans in tomato sauce and neither did I. Hunger doesn't allow one to be picky.

I felt someone put his hand on my shoulder and I quickly pulled away but then I saw it was in fact Rick handing me my red plastic bag.

"Oh sorry for startling you, Skylar, just wanted to give you this back."

"Thanks."

I could see Daryl giving the blue plastic bag to Jacques whilst a big mischievous grin was plastered across his face. I knew he had done something to the Jacques' bag I just couldn't figure out what.

"I'm off to sleep," Jacques spoke up , "I can't be in the same room as this redneck grinning like a maniac."

"Oh, yeah? And where exactly are you going to sleep, then?," Daryl asked.

"Back in the concierge's shed. You coming?," Jacques asked me.

I think Jacques was referring to the cottage we were held in before. I shook my head no, thinking it wouldn't be a smart idea to isolate ourselves from the group. No matter how retarded I considered this bounding time around the camp fire, it's crucial to show my goodwill to the rest of the group. Because like it or not, how Jacques and I will behave these next few days will decide whether or not we're allowed to stay permanently.

"Suit yourself," Jacques said while slamming the door hard.

"I'm sorry," I said. I don't know why I felt the need to apologize for his behaviour, but I did somehow.

"He like that all the time?," Daryl asked.

"He wasn't before, but I guess this zombie-apocalypse really got the best of him."

"You don't have to apologize for what he says or does. Things are going to be different from now on. I'm sure Jack will come around, eventually," Rick said with a warm voice.

"Hope so." _'but I very much doubt it,'_ I wanted to add.

"'Nough with the chit-chatter. Time to get this party started!," Daryl exclaimed and he pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

"Where did you get that from?," Lori asked, sounding like a worrying parent.

"Ah, a magician never reveals his tricks, right?"

I knew exactly where Daryl had gotten the bottle from and I also immediately understood why he was grinning from ear to ear. Daryl had stolen the bottle from Jacques.

But I decided to leave the matter alone for now because everyone seemed to be happy about being able to have a drink. And even though there was only half a bottle whiskey to begin with, everyone passed the bottle around and shared its content eagerly. I decided against taking a sip from it because I still felt the consequences of my last encounter with the liquor this morning. I was glad I wasn't the only one not drinking. Both Glenn and Lori refused to drink from the bottle. Daryl, nonetheless, would not have it that Glenn didn't drink and kept pushing the bottle back in Glenn's hands.

That's when I saw Daryl wink at Glenn. Was it some sort of inside joke of which I could not understand the meaning or was there something else going on? I looked back at Daryl's face which was now carrying the biggest grin I had seen the man walk around with so far. When I looked back at Glenn I saw him blushing like a little schoolgirl.

_'What is it with these men? They aren't really friends, are they? Because something about Daryl tells me he isn't really a social butterfly.'_

It suddenly became clear to me why Daryl was acting the way he did around me. Maybe there was some truth in what Jacques was trying to say after all. Plus, there were all these signs, I wasn't just making this up, right? Commenting my outfit, cutting my hair so well, winking at Glenn like that, making a grown man blush?

_'Daryl must be gay.'_


	6. Date with Daryl Dixon

**CHAPTER 6: DATE WITH DARYL DIXON**

* * *

"Okay, it's time for bed," Lori said.

"But, mooom?," Carl began his weak protest.

"No, I won't have it," Lori said, placing her hands on Carls back, "Now get changed in your pyjamas and brush your teeth in the sink, young man."

As I watched the adorable exchange of words between a mother and her son, I started to wonder if I would have been like this with my mother had she not passed away so early. But with the sudden sound of chairs being moved around I decided that it was futile to ponder about that sort of things. I should stop thinking about 'what if's' and start to wonder of what was still possible.

I watched everyone get up and move to the back of the refectory, leaving me standing at the sink. The mystery of where their sleeping place was, was solved as I saw Beth and Maggie pull out several matrasses.

"What about me?," I asked silently.

I knew that I had been really quiet during dinner and the several conversations after that. The only time I had spoken up is when I asked Rick if I could come on the looting trip tomorrow. Still, I was surprised they had completely forgotten about me.

Only Daryl and Carol had heard my question.

"You can sleep with me on my mattress, if you want to," Carol suggested.

"Thanks, Carol," I said, smiling at her kind suggestion.

Daryl walked out of the refectory, saying goodnight to everyone. Not understanding where he went to but too tired to ask anymore, I laid myself down onto Carols mattress waiting for the room to get quiet. That took a while because everyone was taking their time to change into their pyjamas and even after that I could hear the sisters Beth and Maggie whispering to each other even though Rick had asked them several times to stop talking. It made me feel nostalgic, casting my mind back to when my brother and I did the exact same thing. Tears were springing in my eyes and I felt myself getting short of breath. I immediately got up and ran out of the refectory.

I took a couple of minutes to calm myself down. It had been a long time since I had a panic attack like that.

"Skylar?," I heard a voice right behind me ask.

I turned around, taking a deep breath. "Holy shit, Daryl."

"Yeah, I heard someone in the corridor."

"I woke you up, sorry," I said softly.

"No, I have watch now anyway, so don't worry about it," he whispered.

"You have watch again?"

Daryl nodded his head. "We switch watches more to keep them shorter because it's so cold outside and we can't afford for anyone to get sick."

"Who do you have watch with?"

"Maggie."

"She seems nice."

"She is, she just likes to talk a lot."

"Yeah, I've noticed. Why don't you sleep in the refectory?"

"Too much noise," he responded.

Although I think what he meant to say was 'too much people'.

"Then where do you sleep?"

"Geography class," he said, pointing towards a wooden door further down the hallway, "It's colder than the refectory but much more quiet."

"Why you're out here?, he asked me.

"Too much noise," I repeated his answer.

"Well, I'm going to take over T-Dog's and Hershel's watch duty and those two snore really loud, so I'm afraid that won't help you get some sleep."

"Oh, okay," I muttered.

The whispered conversation fell silent and I was wondering why he wasn't on his way to watch duty.

"You know, you could if you want to –", he began hesitantly as he pointed towards the geography class.

"Can I?"

"Yeah, I mean I won't be there for the next four hours, the mattress is big enough for the both of us and I don't snore so –."

"Thanks, Daryl," I said, realizing very well that he's not the type of guy who propose a sleepover to just anyone.

"Okay, I'm off now."

I nodded. "Make sure to stay warm."

"The same goes for you," he responded.

I walked into the geography class and immediately got under the blankets so I could warm up. He wasn't joking when he said that it was colder than the refectory. This class didn't have a fireplace like the canteen had, so I did a little bed dance to warm up my body underneath the blankets. Still everything was quiet in this room so I felt sleep kicking in pretty quickly.

I woke as I heard Daryl creeping into the geography class and taking his boots off as quietly as he could. He dropped on the mattress, letting out a content sigh.

"You know he's not going to be happy about this," I said, breaking the silence.

"Shit, woman! I thought you was sleepin', scared the living shit out of me!," he said, sounding genuinely startled.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"'S okay, just not used to someone laying in my bed, I guess."

"So you heard what I asked you?"

I heard him yawn loudly as I turned around so I was facing him.

"Who isn't going to be happy about what?"

"Don't play dumb, Daryl. You know I'm talking about you stealing Jacques' bottle of whiskey. He's going to give you hell tomorrow."

"Yeah? Well, I couldn't care less about his mood in the mornings."

"You shouldn't steal someone's property."

"That's rich comin' from you."

"What do you mean?," I asked, slightly insulted. Was he accusing me of stealing?

"A couple of hours ago you agreed to coming on a looting trip with the three of us."

"That's different. We're going to steal from people who are dead so we can survive. It's necessary."

"Ya know what else is necessary? For us to have a good time. Sometimes we're just so busy surviving, we forget about the other stuff."

"You still could've asked him. You know, for peace's sake."

"If I would've asked Jack, would he have given it to us?"

"Probably not."

"My point exactly."

But I didn't understand his logic at all. According to Daryl, the reason why he was allowed to steal a bottle was because he was sure that if he would've asked for Jacques' permission, Jacques would've declined.

I glanced at him with, what I hoped was, a disappointed look.

"Jeez, it was just a bottle of whiskey."

I shook my head disapprovingly.

"Half a bottle, in fact," he added.

I still gave him a frowning look.

"If it really means that much to ya, I'll bring one back tomorrow on our trip to the city."

There wasn't a lot of light in the room but I was still able to see how exhausted he looked.

"Goodnight, Daryl," I said softly

"Goodnight, Sky," he mumbled.

I woke up about seven blissful hours later. I couldn't believe I had slept the entire night through. I hadn't done that in ages!

As I turned over, I saw that Daryl was still sleeping. Uncertain about whether or not I had to wake him up, I just looked at him sleeping soundly. Maybe it would be better if I gave him his extra rest, after all he had to do the watch twice yesterday. I got up from the matrass slowly, making sure I wouldn't make any rapid movements that could wake Daryl from his slumber and I put my blanket on his so he would be a bit warmer.

During the entire night, he hadn't touched me inappropriately once. As a matter of fact, he hadn't touched me at all. After our conversation was over, him and I both turned over and we slept with our backs to each other. It definitely confirmed what I was thinking yesterday; Daryl is gay.

I walked through the corridor and entered the cafeteria which was still nice and warm from yesterday's evening fire. Everyone but Lori and Carol who were preparing some breakfast, were still sleeping on the mattresses so I tried to walk as quietly as I could. For a moment I thought I should probably help Lori and Carol make breakfast. But they seemed to be a trained duo, only having to use non-verbally communication to ask each other questions. Besides, I would probably just be a burden on them, constantly asking them were things where standing and such.

Mouthing 'thanks' to Carol for handing me a plate of food, I sat down and quickly began to eat. It was nice sitting on the side line, seeing everyone sleeping so peacefully, not yet having to worry about what today might bring. I wondered who would be the first person to break the spell of silence that seemed to be casted in this room.

I really should really not have wondered about that because in walked Mr. Troublemaker himself.

"Where the fuck is he?," Jacques yelled, waking everybody up.

"Who?," Lori asked softly while raising her finger to her lips, giving him the signal to quiet down.

"The bloody redneck. Who the fuck else could've stolen my bottle?," he asked, still raising his voice higher than really necessary.

"What bottle? The one we drank last night," Glenn asked blearily.

"Daryl stole that bottle," Rick asked.

"Good morning," Daryl said sleepily, walking through the door of the canteen and over to Carol for his breakfast.

"Speak of the devil and he doth appear," Jacques said angrily.

"That's weird. Didn't take you for a religious man, with all that swearin' and callin' other people names and stuff."

Jacques walked towards Daryl quickly. Me, being aware of his intentions, came to stand between Jacques and Daryl, saying "Hey, now Jacques, there's really no need to do that."

"Yeah, Jack, no need to get physical," Daryl said, standing right behind me.

"Fucking homo," Jacques said, still trying to pass me to get to Daryl.

I surprised myself by slapping Jacques in the face. But he shouldn't be making fun of other's people sexuality, even if Daryl did steal his bottle of whiskey.

"That's twice already that you've hit me to protect that white trash!" Jacques yelled at me.

"Yeah and I'm going to keep doing it if you keep insulting him. Now get the fuck over yourself. Daryl promised me yesterday that he's going to pick out a nice bottle on our supply trip and give it to you to make amends."

"Supply trip? You're going on a looting trip with them? With him," he asked, still sounding mad.

"Yes," I stated bluntly.

"But –"

"But what?"

He stared at me with an open-mouth as if I had just betrayed him.

"You can either come with us or stay here and whine about me leaving," I suggested.

"If you're going, I'm going."

"Yeah, I don't care. You can do whatever you want," I said, sounding completely indifferent.

"I will," Jacques said.

"Good."

"Good."

"Fine by me," I said.

"That ain't fine by me," Daryl interrupted our ping-pong of words, "the guy is a time bomb waiting to go off."

"No, I'm not," Jacques refuted.

"No? Then why are your hands shaking," Daryl asked, pointing at Jacques' hands.

"That's my way of expressing the excitement I'm feeling for getting to go on a field trip with Daryl Dixon," Jacques replied sarcastically.

I knew that wasn't the reason of Jacques' trembling. See, Jacques hadn't had a drink in about twelve hours and the consequences of that were now beginning to show. I had the feeling that Daryl knew that too.

"Is that right? So it's not because –", Daryl began to ask.

"Not that anyone is asking my opinion but it's fine by me," Rick suddenly interrupted, "We were planning on taking two cars anyway because we need to get a lot of clothes. Plus, I think it will be a good way to show the both of you how we do this around here."

"Our leader has spoken, I'm joining you guys," Jacques said, smiling smugly at Daryl.

"Looking forward to it," Daryl responded mockingly, "we're leaving in one hour, you better be ready."

"Now that's settled. Let's all have breakfast like civil people," Hershel spoke up, motioning to the improvised kitchen area. Everybody did as he said and started walking towards Carol.

"What," Jacques asked, seeing my sudden smile appear.

"You have a date with Daryl Dixon," I whispered, trying not to start laughing.

"Oh, shut up. Don't call it that."

"Sorry, you're right. You have a mandate with Daryl Dixon," I said, stressing the man-part.

* * *

**A/N**: just to clarify some things; Jacques and Skylar are not a couple. They have spend the last couple months together, surviving together, just the two of them. So it's only natural that Jacques feel protective of Skylar.

Skylar also mentioned a few chapters back that Jacques reminds her of her brother, who died when she was a child. So I really don't see them together romantically.


	7. Smoking fags

**CHAPTER 7: SMOKING FAGS**

* * *

I know of only three ways to get through this kind of cold. One being, drinking alcohol, which isn't really an option right now since we need to keep our heads straight and watch out for walkers that might appear on the streets. Option two is drinking something warm, but Glenn only had one thermos with soup in it, which he was holding onto for dear life. I couldn't ask him to share it with me because I don't really know him that well. Then there was always the third option, smoking a cigarette. Breathing in that warm poison and slowly letting my longs be filled with. Oh god, I loved smoking in the winter. Unfortunately, I didn't have any cigarettes, so I asked Glenn.

"Glenn, you got a smoke?"

"A what?"

I raised two fingers to my lips and pretended to smoke a cigarette.

"Oh no, you shouldn't smoke. You'll get cancer and all sorts of vascular diseases."

I rolled my eyes at him. As I did that I noticed Rick walking towards us with two boxes of clothing.

"Hey Rick, got a smoke?"

"No, Skylar, I don't. And you shouldn't smoke it's bad for you," He advised while walking back into the clothing store.

"Yes, I have been already made aware of the dangers of smoking," I replied sarcastically, even though Rick couldn't hear me anymore.

Why was everyone so against smoking? Life expectance statistics were already looking pretty bad these days with that whole rising-of-the-dead situation going on.

I started getting frustrated as I saw Glenn sipping from his warm soup. I needed to get warm asap. I saw Daryl walking in our direction with three boxes of clothing.

"Hey Daryl!," I called out, "Do you have any fags?"

Glenn choked on his soup, for no reason I could name.

"What did you just call me?," Daryl yelled right back at me.

"I asked you a question, I didn't call you anything," I responded in a confused manner.

I could hear Glenn having trouble breathing after almost suffocating on his drink.

"You're calling me a fag, girl?"

"No," I said loud and clearly, "No, I asked if you had a fag."

Daryl quickly shortened the distance between me and him, put the boxes into the car and grabbed me by the arms.

"Da fuck? Are you making fun of me? Calling me a faggot?"

Oh, now I understood his confusion and anger. In British English a fag is a cigarette, in American English however it means something really insulting.

"Daryl, in Britain 'fag' means 'cigarette'. I asked if you had a cigarette."

"A cigarette?"

"Yes, a fag, cig, ciggy, cigarette, cancer stick, you know, whatever you call them."

"Oh," he said quietly, letting go of my arms.

He looked at Glenn, standing behind me.

"What you grinning like an idiot for? Think that's funny, chinaman?"

"Extremely funny, actually," Glenn replied.

Daryl just shook his head and turned his attention back to me.

"I don't have no cigarettes. Besides, you shouldn't smoke, Sky, that shit is bad for ya."

"So I've been told. Repeatedly."

"But you still do it anyway," Daryl stated, smiling lightly.

"Pretty much," I said matter-of-factly.

Jacques joined us with two boxes of clothing.

"I don't get why people smoke, it's retarded. Do you smoke, Jack?," Glenn asked.

Jacques started laughing mischievously.

"Well, I don't smoke cigarettes," Jacques replied, emphasising the word 'cigarettes' and walked back into the store.

"What does that mean?," Glenn asked with a very innocent tone to his voice.

"Really, Glenn? You don't know what Wacko Jacko means by that?," Daryl asked.

"No," Glenn simply replied.

"Remember Merle?"

"Yeah, what about Mer–," Glenn stopped mid-sentence. "Oh, he means he doesn't smoke '_cigarettes_'."

"Wow, Glenn, that took you a while to figure out. Didn't sleep well last night?," I asked.

"Nah, got nothin' to do with that," Daryl said playfully, "Like old Merle would have said 'the boy is about as sharp as a cue ball. His problem isn't that he ain't getting no sleep but that the engine in his head is runnin' and nobody is driving it'."

Daryl's way of talking and the expression on his face as he said that were enough to make me chuckle. And even though he was impersonating someone I had never met before it was still funny.

"Daryl, I can't believe you just said that," I mumbled, trying to keep breathing while laughing.

"What? I'm telling you, if Merle was here, that's exactly what he would say," Daryl said, his eyes twinkling.

Rick walked over to us with two other boxes. "Skylar, honey, could you please keep it down? We're out here in the open and there could be walkers around here," Rick spoke in a parental way.

"Sorry, I can't –," I started to laugh even harder, but I put my hand in front of my mouth in order to keep the noise to a minimum.

Rick pulled Daryl, who was showing a confident smile, back into the clothing store and away from Glenn and me.

I turned to Glenn.

"Who is this Merle guy, anyway? And when can I meet him 'cause he's sounds funny as fuck."

"Believe me when I say this, Skylar. You don't want to know Merle Dixon," Glenn whispered to me.

"Dixon? So he's Daryl's brother, father, uncle,…?," I asked curiously.

"Like I said, you don't want to know."

"I just asked you twice, I think that means that I really do want to know who Merle fucking Dixon is."

"We're not discussing this. If you really are so keen on finding out about the Dixon family, you have to ask Mr. Dixon himself," Glenn suggested while motioning his head in the direction where Daryl went.

"I take it Merle isn't a friend of yours."

Glenn shook his head vigorously. "Merle Dixon doesn't have any friends."

I saw Rick, Daryl and Jacques walk out of the store, so I decided to leave the topic 'Merle Dixon' alone for a while.

"So we got all the clothes we need, now we just have to go to the drugstore and the supermarket," Rick said, "We'll do the drugstore first and then the supermarket."

They were about to turn around and walk towards the local drugstore so I coughed loudly in the hope I would get the attention of the male threesome.

The cough, however, went unnoticed so I did it again, but a bit louder and in a less subtle way.

It was Daryl who turned around and said, "Sumthin' wrong, Sky?"

"Yeah, I'm freezing out here."

"Ya want my jacket?," Daryl proposed kindly.

"Euh no thanks. I want to come with you guys."

"No, Skylar, you've to keep watch with Glenn," Rick said, sounding sternly.

"Look around, Rick, we haven't seen a single walker since we got here. Glenn and I are both freezing to death standing here waiting on you guys. I'm sure Glenn can manage just fine on his own," I complemented the boy, patting him encouragingly on the back.

"Huh – I don't know if that is such a good idea, Skylar," Rick said.

"All I'm saying is that it'll be faster if we split up and go in two pairs. One couple goes to the drugstore, the other to the supermarket."

"Yeah, but it will be safer if –," Rick began.

"She's right, Rick. I can manage just fine on my own," Glenn spoke up, visibly proud that I had given him such a compliment.

"She can come with me, if she wants," Daryl said to Rick.

Surprised at the support of Daryl and Glenn I gave both of them a bright smile.

Rich let out a big sigh. "Fine then, you two will go to the supermarket but you'll pay close attention to her, you hear me?" He said to Daryl.

"Jack and I are going to the drugstore. Glenn, keep your eyes and ears open. If a herd comes by you –, "Rick stopped, leaving the phrase he began unfinished.

"Yes? If a herd comes by I what?," Glenn asked.

"Then you think of something."

"What? That's your advice?," Glenn asked, sounding shocked.

"Well, Glenn, you said you'd manage 'just fine'," Rick said with a slight mocking tone.

"Those are her words," Glenn said, pointing at me.

"And you will," I said confidently while smiling at him.

"Let's go, we're losing time. It's going to be dark soon," Rick said.

"This way, Sky," Daryl said, pointing at the main street.

As we walked into the supermarket he handed me a grocery bag.

"What do we need?"

"Anything useful that isn't food."

"Why not food?," I asked, sounding somewhat surprised.

"Rick and I already did that yesterday, that's when we ran into you and Jack. We already cleared this out yesterday, so it should be safe, but keep your eyes open, okay."

"Yep," I responded, looking around.

I started at the section with the hygiene products. Grabbing some pads, tampons and tweezers to pluck my eyebrows. The world might have ended, but I still wanted to keep my eyebrows in check.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah? Sumthin' wrong?," he asked, coming in the same aisle as I was in.

"We still got toilet paper?"

"Yeah, we do," he replied while putting the useful supplies he had found in the bag I was holding.

"But is it as soft as this?," I asked, pointing at the package containing pink five-layered toilet paper.

"Sky?"

"Mm?" I had opened the package, had taken one roll out and felt just how soft the toilet paper was.

"We don't need no more toilet paper. Put it down, Sky."

"But –"

"Jeez, what is with you and toilet paper?"

"Well, SO-REEH, it's just that I haven't seen so much toilet paper in months."

"Fuck, you're weird," He said, walking away from me and into a different aisle.

"Sky?," I heard him ask after a few minutes.

"Yes?"

"Wanna hear a joke?"

I didn't say anything.

"It's about toilet paper," he said teasingly.

"Oh, then I'm all in favour of hearing the joke," I said sarcastically.

_"Okay there are these two rednecks who were on a long drive back from a hunting trip, when one  
turned to the other and said he needed to go to the bathroom. So, they  
stopped the truck and he went behind some bushes._

_When he returned to the truck, the other guy remarked, "That was fast!"  
"Well, I need to take a shit but I've got nothing to wipe my ass with,"  
he replied._

_The other explained, "All you have to do is use a dollar to wipe your  
ass."_

_"Good idea," he said, as he headed back to the bushes.  
A short while later, he returned to the truck with a really upset look  
on his face, and said, "That was a terrible idea. Not only did I get  
shit all over my hands, but now I've got four quarters stuck up my ass!" _

Daryl started to laugh loudly at his own joke. He came back into my aisle and noticed that I wasn't laughing.

"You don't think that was funny?"

"Sure, it was a bit funny, but I like your spontaneous jokes more."

"Oh," he said softly, sounding a bit disappointed.

"Maybe it's because I don't know what rednecks are that I don't think it's as funny as you think it is."

"You don't know what rednecks are?," he sounded surprised.

I shook my head.

"Well, you're looking at one, Sky."

"Yeah I heard Jacques call you one, but it sounded like it was supposed to be an insult."

"It kinda is an insult. It's a slang term referring to poor, uneducated white males living in the South," he explained.

"Then why do you call yourself one if it's insulting?"

"Girl, you're asking a lot of questions."

"Well, you've caught my attention, and now I'm interested."

"I dunno know. It's like gays are the only ones allowed to call themselves and each other faggots," he tried to explain quickly.

"Euh I don't think gays can call themselves or each other faggots."

"No?"

"No, it's stupid. That's like valuing yourself less than what you really are. It's the same if you call yourself a redneck, you make yourself sound inferior, Daryl"

He looked at me as if I had just said the strangest thing he had ever heard.

"Do people call you other things too?," I asked.

"Cracker, hillbilly, white trash, you name it," he sounded calm, but I could tell he didn't like to talk about it.

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"Sure, but I'm a redneck, there ain't no use denying that. Ya done now?," he asked, pointing at my bag.

"Yeah, I got everything."

"I'm just going to use the restroom in the back. Be right back, okay?"

"Fine, I'll just stay here."

"Yeah you better."

He turned around, started walking all the way to the back of the store.

"Hey Daryl!," I yelled.

He turned back around, muttering something that sounded like "Mm?"

"Do you need some toilet paper?," I asked in a laughing way, holding out a roll.

"Actually," he came closer to me and grabbed the roll out of my hand, "don't mind if I do."

As I sat down on the counter of the cash register, waiting for Daryl to come back, my eye fell on one of the magazine's displayed on the magazine stand.

I couldn't read the title of the magazine but it probably said something cliché like 'How to lose weight and gain confidence in 6 weeks'. I tried to think back to a time when all of that still mattered.

But then a different type of magazine caught my eye. A type that I had never seen before and of which I had no idea they were actually being published, at least not in Europe. A magazine that probably listed all sorts of guns and other artillery. The cover of it showed a father and his young daughter both proudly posing with shotguns. It was weird how that image frightened me for seeing someone so young involved with gunfire on a voluntary basis and yet at the same time the image warmed my heart. It was nice to see a father and a daughter bond and share the same hobby, even it was one of such a violent nature.

The image also gave me another idea. I quickly stood up, put the grocery bag on the counter, turned around and bended over the cash register.

"C'mon it has to be here somewhere," I mumbled to myself.

"Aha, eureka!," I said as I quickly opened the box I had been looking for.

Behind me I could hear Daryl closing the door of the restroom and enter the store again.

"God bless America for having weak gun laws."

"Ya found a gun? What type of gun is it?," I heard Daryl ask behind me.

"It's only –," I paused briefly to add some dramatic tension, "an AK47," I finished enthusiastically.

"What? Show me!," Daryl responded with the same amount of enthusiasm in his voice.

"I can't believe a normal American supermarket like this has a classic Soviet gun lying just behind the counter. Aren't you guys supposed to be archenemies instead of sharing your toys around like that?"

I turned around, ready to show Daryl the treasure I had just found. He was walking towards me, with a fast pace and with big steps, wanting desperately to see the weapon, but suddenly stopped in his tracks and aimed his loaded crossbow at me, yelling "Duck!".

Without thinking twice, I did as he commanded me and lowered myself immediately onto the ground, hitting my knee against something sharp in the process. I felt a sudden change in air as an arrow flew just a couple of inches above my head.

Falling on top of me was a female walker, letting out its final cry. Her head, penetrated right between the eyes by Daryl's arrow, knocking painfully against my own.

"Shit, Sky! You alright, girl?"

Daryl pulled the creature off of me and looked at me, his eyes filled with despair.

I nodded faintly.

Without even asking for my permission, Daryl slid one of his arms under my knees and the other one around my shoulders, carrying me fireman-style to the counter of another cash register.

He put me on it, grabbed my chin with his hand and looked me in the eyes.

"You alright?," He asked me again.

"Yeah, I'm fine thanks to you, just a little shocked I think," I responded quietly.

He let go of my chin and put his hands on either side of me. "You hurt somewhere?"

I nodded.

"Show me where it hurts."

"My knee hurts," I said weakly, pointing at my right knee.

Daryl grabbed my leg and lowered my thigh high sock, revealing an open cut wound.

"Let me just take this off before it becomes all bloody," He said, starting to untie my right boot and cautiously slid the sock of my leg.

Blood was slowly dripping out of the wound, flooding over my leg and onto the floor.

I saw him go back to the cash register and look for something behind the counter. As he walked back I saw him holding a first-aid kit.

"I'll fix it right up for ya."

He opened the box and grabbed out a bottle and some cotton pads.

"What's that?"

"Just an antiseptic," He said, starting to wet a cotton pad with it.

Because he noticed me watching him with a bit of suspicion, he held out the bottle so I could read the label. "I swear it ain't poison."

Even though I hadn't read the label I nodded my head.

"Approved?"

"Yeah, this is going to hurt, isn't it?," I asked him.

"Well, it ain't gonna hurt me," he said jokingly, emphasising the me-part.

"How compassionate of you, Daryl," I responded, smiling lightly.

I could tell he was waiting for my permission to touch my leg.

"Just do it."

Putting his left hand on my leg to keep me from pulling away, he applied the cotton pad on the wound. I sucked in air quickly as I felt a very uncomfortable stinging sensation. Dedicated to doing a good job, Daryl's left hand just held the bare flesh of my leg even more firmly and continued cleaning the wound.

"This is already the second time in two days that you have to do that. I don't get why I didn't even hear the damn walker come in or something."

"That's because I think the walker has been here all along."

"What do you mean?"

"You've seen the uniform it was wearing. It said 'nice to serve you' with a logo from this store. That person was working here when she died and turned into a walker.

"Yeah, I saw that. But then how come it didn't hear us before?"

"Rick and I have noticed that the walkers have been acting sleepily during winter. I don't know if it's the cold or sumthin' but they have become really slow. It's like they're in this trance or hibernation or sumthin'.

"And I just happen to wake it up from its nap or what?"

"Yeah, you're a bit unlucky to say the least," he said.

"No, you bring me bad luck. It always happens when I'm around you."

"Don't put this on me, girl, I saved your ass yesterday and I just did it again today. I'm gonna make sure I'm near you tomorrow cuz you might just slit your own wrist trying to cook or sumthin'," He said, making me laugh.

"Sorry, you're right, I'm clumsy as fuck. Man, if Jacques was here right now, he would be giving me hell."

Daryl started cleaning off the blood that had left a red path on the rest of my leg.

"But you don't do that."

"I don't do what?," Daryl asked while applying an adhesive bandage on my knee.

"You don't give me hell about fucking up like this."

"The way I see it, people who don't do shit, can't do shit wrong," Daryl said matter-of-factly.

"Daryl Dixon, the philosopher," I said, laughing at his straightforward way of thinking.

"You mocking me, Sky? I was trying to be nice to you and now you're just –," Daryl said, sounding a bit upset.

"No, I wasn't laughing at you, Daryl, I was laughing with you."

He frowned at me.

"I think you're funny, Daryl."

He shook his head and pulled his hand of my leg but I grabbed it and held it into my own hand, refusing him to pull away from me.

"Seriously, I haven't had a good laugh like that in like forever," I said, emphasising 'forever'.

I softly squeezed his hand because I wanted him to look me in the eyes. He slowly raised his gaze from his feet to my eyes with a expression that I could only describe as complete shyness.

"Daryl, you make me even forget that I had just almost died."

"You mean that?," Daryl asked softly, still looking in my eyes.

"I always mean what I say," I stated.

"Except when you're lying," he said teasingly, his eyes smiling.

"Yeah, but I'm not lying to you."

"No, not right now, you're not."

"Excuse me, I haven't lied to you yet," I responded playfully.

"'Yet' being the most important part of that sentence?"

I just shook my head no.

"What? Got nothin' to say to me anymore?"

"I won't lie to you. And I'm not lying to you about this either. I think you're funny."

Now it was his time to shake his head.

"End of discussion," I added, squeezing his hand again.

He was still shaking his head no.

"Why can't you accept a compliment from me?"

"You're just giving me a compliment because you want something from me. Like you did with Glenn."

"You think I lied to Glenn about him being able to hold the fort?"

He nodded.

"Oh Daryl, now you're just insulting me."

I let go of his hand and pushed him away from me a bit to create some distance to think better, because having Daryl so close to me was giving me concentration problems.

"I believe that Glenn is capable of a lot more than the tasks Rick allows him to do. You should really give Glenn some more credit. He deserves it."

He looked in my eyes again.

"In fact you should give yourself more credit."

"You really mean that, don't you," Daryl asked softly.

I nodded.

"But you've only met me yesterday."

"What can I say, Daryl, you've made a killer first impression on me," I joked.

I was rewarded with a smile.

"Alright then, I accept your compliment. You think I'm funny."

"Yes, but don't let it get in your head."

"Can't say I won't. It's not every day a man like me gets a compliment from a lady," He chuckled lightly, slowly sliding my sock back on my leg.

After he had tied my boot back on, he put both his hands on either side of me. He looked down at my lap and seemed to brood over something. So I grabbed him by his arm and squeezed it lightly to get his attention back to me. Underneath the winter jacket I could feel how muscled he was.

"I'm not a lady," I corrected him.

He looked up at me, smiling lightly. "What? Not a lady? Ya sure look like one. Oh I see, you're one of them boys dressed as a girl? You have a snake in there instead of a pussy?" He said in a joking matter, leaning in closer.

But that remark reminded me of the minor detail that Daryl was in fact gay and in order for him to actually like me I would have to magically grow a penis, or as he put it so delicately 'a snake'.

I let go of his arm and leant back against the counter a little. I shook my head at how stupid I was being.

"Stop it," I said softly, more to myself than to Daryl.

"Sky?," I heard him ask, sounding genuinely confused at my sudden pulling away from him. "Did I say sumthin' wrong?"

"No," I said, not looking at him.

"Then what is it? Does your knee still hurt?," he asked while placing his hand softly on the bandage.

I nodded. "It really stings."

"Yeah, let's not tell Rick about this whole debacle," Daryl suggested.

"Yes, let's not," I nodded my head.

"Nice gun, though," He said, pointing at the weapon on the counter of the other cash register.

"Yes," I said, not being able to hide my disappointment of ending our conversation like that, "Could you grab it for me?"

"Sure, let me just help you down first." He lifted me from the counter, even though him and I both knew that I could have come off of it on my own. Limping towards the grocery bag filled with supplies I asked "Need anything else?".

Because he gave no response I turned back around to see what he was doing. I saw him glancing over at the magazine stand near the cash register. Wondering if he was looking at the female cashier he had just shot, I stepped closer. But he wasn't looking at the walker, he was in fact staring at the several editions of men's magazines on the stand. More specifically, he was looking at the diverse copies of Penthouse and Playboy.

And then a weird thought entered my mind._ 'Daryl is just like any other ignorant straight man who likes to look at naked women. Not men, but women.'_

Now I still had to figure out why I was so damn happy about that.

* * *

**A/N**: As you can see Skylar just realized Daryl isn't gay.

There were several reasons why she thinks Daryl was in fact gay. One being, that she isn't really a people person and she doesn't really understand why Daryl is being so nice to her, without wanting sexual favours in return.

But the main reason why Skylar believed Daryl was gay is because Jacques said so, and because they've spend some time surviving together she trust Jacques's judgement, even when it's wrong.

Please review :)


	8. Frenchie

**CHAPTER 8: FRENCHIE**

* * *

_'Great, I slept in a bed with a heterosexual man I barely know,'_ I thought, _'Even if I did genuinely believe he was gay, I shouldn't have done that. For some reason I trusted him enough to sleep with him on one mattress not even twelve hours after he pushed me into a car against my will…There has to be something seriously wrong with me._

I was so angry with myself that I decided to drive with Jacques as Rick, Glenn and Daryl drove in the other car behind us. I knew that it had been a mistake getting into the car with Jacques the moment I smelled the liquor. Of course he claimed that he had drunk just enough to stop the trembling of his hands and not a drop more. I knew he was lying but I just couldn't stand the thought of being in the same car as Daryl right now. How in the hell could I have ever thought he was gay in the first place? Oh, right it was Jacques who gave me the idea.

"He isn't gay," I said, breaking the silence.

"Who? The redneck?," Jacques asked.

"His name is Daryl."

"Oh, I know his name. I just prefer not to use it."

"You're such a wanker sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Yeah, scratch that, make it most times."

Jacques started laughing. "What can I say, you know me so well, Skylar. So what were you saying about my dear friend?"

"He isn't gay," I repeated.

"Yeah, I know. Just figured that a redneck like that thinks it's really insulting if I say he is."

"You shouldn't say stuff like that, Jacques, it's confusing."

"Confusing?"

I didn't respond, knowing very well that I had already said too much.

"Did something happen between you two?," he asked.

"No," I lied.

No Jacques, I didn't spend the night with him on his mattress. No Jacques, he didn't check my entire body for bites and scratches. No Jacques, we didn't have a weird moment in the supermarket.

"Liar liar paints on fire," Jacques said in a childish way, "You're such a bad liar, I don't even have to look at you to know you're lying to me."

"The same goes for you. I knew you were lying when you said you hadn't drunk that much."

"And still you decided to get into the car with me. Wow, something really bad must have happened between you and that hillbilly."

"But if you really insist on driving the car yourself then be my guest," he said while pulling the car slightly to the left.

"Merde, Jacques! Keep the car straight!"

"Seriously, Skylar, if you want to drive –"

"You know I can't drive," I yelled at him, "Just keep your eyes on the road, don't want to get killed in a car accident, do you?"

"That would be pretty dumb, wouldn't it. The world ends and we'd be stupid enough to die in a car accident."

"Yeah, 'cause only stupid people die in car accident, right?," I yelled at him, barely holding back the tears.

"Oh, shit, Skylar, sorry I didn't mean it like that. I had forgotten that your mom and brother died in a car accident."

"Just shut up and drive."

Not another word came out of his mouth until we were back at the school. It was nice that for once Jacques listened to me, even though he only did it because he felt guilty.

T-Dog, Lori and Hershel were waiting for us on the playground. As everyone started to unload the boxes in both cars I escaped by mumbling something about wanting to take a shower.

I walked right through the door of the red brick building, sat down on the wooden bench, dropped my head in my hands and started pulling my hair. I always did that when I was stressing out about something.

"Ya okay?," a voice behind me said.

"Shit Daryl, that's already the second time that you've startled me like that."

"Sorry, I saw ya walking this way and I just wanna make sure you're okay."

I didn't say anything.

"You look upset," Daryl said, "Are you mad or sumthin'?"

"I was just going to take a shower," I said softly.

"I asked Hershel to take a look at your wound, it was pretty deep. Should probably need some stitches. He's coming after the cars are unloaded."

I knew this was his awkward attempt of starting a conversation but I didn't say anything, I just nodded.

"Sky, why did you –," Daryl began shyly, looking at the ground, "Why did you pull away from me like that in the store?"

I didn't answer his question.

"Sky, why did you recoil from me?," he asked more intensely this time, "Did I do or say sumthin' wrong?"

I just shook my head, not saying anything.

"Sky, could you please say something."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Was it sumthin' I said?"

"Daryl, I'm tired and I want to take a shower badly. Could you please –," I asked, pointing at the door. Quite frankly, I was getting annoyed at his perseverance of asking questions.

As if on cue the door opened and I saw Hershel walk in, holding a bag.

"Someone needed to get stitches?," Hershel asked.

"Yeah, little miss independent over here," Daryl said angrily, pointing at me.

"Don't you got something useful to do?," I snapped at him.

I didn't understand why he came in here in the first place. _'To check in on me? What am I a baby?,'_ I thought.

"Whatever, Frenchie," Daryl said, walking outside and slamming the door shut.

"Frenchie? What the hell does that mean?," I was thinking out loud.

"Don't swear around me, young lady," Hershel said firmy.

"Sorry, I'm just a bit confused. I'm not French, Daryl knows that," I said as I started to take off my boots.

"That's not what he meant. Didn't watch any westerns before the world ended?"

I shook my head. "Not my area of expertise, I'm afraid."

"Frenchie is a western made in the fifties, directed by Louis King and starring Shelley Winters, Joel McCrea and Marie Windsor."

"Yeah that still doesn't ring any bells. What's the movie about?," I asked, taking my right sock off to show Hershel the wound.

"It is about a girl nicknamed Frenchie Fontaine, played by the beautiful Shelley Winter. The girl has some unresolved childhood issues and is trying to find the men who killed her father."

"I don't get how that has anything to do with me."

"Frenchie is a real troublemaker in the movie, getting into catfights, breaking people out of prison, -"

"Is that what you think I am? A troublemaker?," I interrupted Hershel.

"It wasn't me who called you Frenchie, was it? That was Daryl, you should probably ask him that question. But you didn't let me finish, Skylar. In the movie the character of Frenchie makes two men fall in love with her, keeps them on a string and has a way of getting them to do whatever she wants them to do."

_'I still didn't get it. Is that how Daryl feels about me, that I'm just using him or something?,' _I wondered.

"It wasn't a very good movie, poor acting qualities if you ask me but that actress Shelley, she was gorgeous."

Hershel went on talking about old westerns as he stitched the wound on my knee. I tried to listen to what he was saying but my mind was distracted by the thought that Daryl might be mad at me.

"There you go," Hershel interrupted my thinking.

Looking down at my knee I saw that he had stitched it up nicely.

"When you take a shower, make sure it doesn't get wet," Hershel advised while applying a bandage around it. "If all goes well, I'll take them out in a week."

"Hershel?"

"Yes, miss," he smiled kindly at me.

"Could you not tell Rick that you had to stitch my knee?," I asked him politely.

I saw him looking at me with a confused expression on his face.

"It's just that I don't want him to worry about me or think I'm incapable of something simple as going to a grocery store without falling over my own two feet."

"Yeah, I've noticed he's becoming protective of you, might have something to do with that boy of yours."

"Jacques?"

"The way he was yelling at Daryl this morning over a bottle of alcohol. That's not really normal behaviour, is it?," Hershel said while putting the needle and the rest of the thread back into the bag.

"That's pretty normal behaviour for Jacques."

"It is really? Or was that just the need for alcohol speaking?"

_'Shit, Hershel knows. Is it that obvious?,' _I thought.

"Could you not tell anyone about that too?," I asked him softly.

I saw him let out a big sigh, clearly disapproving of keeping this secret.

"It just that I don't want to get kicked out of the group," I tried to reason with him.

"You don't have to go with Jack if he is asked to leave. I think that especially after this morning it has become clear to us that you do not support his actions."

"Jacques has saved my life on several occasions so I couldn't just let him walk away like that. Leaving the group and being on his own would mean the end of him. You know that as well as I."

"But still, Skylar, -"

"I'll keep him in check, I promise!," I said desperately, looking Hershel straight in the eyes, "You know he wasn't always like that. There's a different side to him than what you saw this morning."

A couple minutes went by during which I saw Hershel really struggling with the dilemma of whether or not he should tell Rick about Jacques' alcohol problem.

"As long as I don't see him walking around with guns or on watch duty, -," he finally said.

"Oh thank you, Hershel!," I interrupted him, not being able to hide my gratefulness.

"But Skylar, if this runs out of hand, the consequences for the entire group will be severe."

"Yes, I know."

"And he needs to start sobering up, okay?"

I nodded but began to wonder that maybe if Hershel had noticed someone else might have seen it too. I knew Daryl was suspecting something.

"I don't think anyone else noticed if that's what you're worried about," Hershel said.

"I hope so," I mumbled.

I had seen how close the others were with each other and wondered how long it would take them to start gossiping and asking questions about Jacques' strange behaviour.

"If he ever wants to talk about it, he can come to me. Alcohol was definitely one of the darkest periods in my life and I'm not proud of it, but if it could in any way help Jack fight his disease, I'll gladly help him."

Now I understood how Hershel had picked up on the withdrawal symptoms so quickly, he had lived through the destructive consequences of alcohol himself. It also explained why he was willing to over Jacques this chance.

"Thanks, Hershel, I'll talk to him about it," I said, walking out of the brick building in search of Jacques.


	9. Confrontation

**CHAPTER 9: CONFRONTATION**

* * *

I didn't find Jacques, but then again I didn't really look. Sure, I asked around a bit at first, but I didn't make a genuine effort to look for him. For some reason I was more worried about Daryl being mad at me than the sudden disappearance of Jacques, so I wanted to talk to Daryl first and only then find out where Jacques is hanging out.

When I walked in his room, I saw him and Carol talking. Well, maybe that's the wrong way of putting it. Carol was talking and Daryl was listening. Although I couldn't be completely sure of the latter. He seemed to be really focused on cleaning his arrows, one of which he used to save me life earlier today. This made me feel even guiltier for snapping at him.

"Oh hey, Skylar," Carol said to me.

I mumbled a quick hey back. I felt like I was interrupting something.

"You doing okay?," she asked.

I nodded.

An awkward silence fell. I saw Carol look from my face to Daryl's who was still staring at his arrows.

"I'm off then, to the refectory. It's way too cold to stay here and I got to make something to eat anyway," I heard her say in a desperate attempt of fleeing the room. But I kept gazing at Daryl, hoping that he would at least acknowledge my presence. Carol did leave but didn't take the awkwardness, that seemed to have settled itself in the room, with her.

Things got quiet, really quiet. I heard Glenn's laugh echoing through the hallway. Well, at least someone was having a good time during the apocalypse.

"Daryl?," I asked quietly, not knowing what the right way was to start this conversation.

"No, I haven't seen your boyfriend. Not since I gave him that bottle of whiskey we picked up from the store. Walked off into the sunset with Jack Daniels, not sure he'll be back any time soon," he said, still cleaning his arrow.

"Jacques isn't my boyfriend. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure I would call him my friend."

I don't know why I felt the need to correct him. If anybody else had thought Jacques was boyfriend, I wouldn't not have cared less, but Daryl…

"Then why did ya get into the car with him?"

"Because –," I started, but I was unable to think of any reason that would make sense to Daryl.

Daryl stood up and turned around. As he walked closer to me I suddenly felt the need to run away as fast as possible. "He was drunk," Daryl started yelling at me.

I hate it when people start yelling at me, I just shut down and stop talking.

Due to my lack of response, Daryl continued. "You got in the car with him, Sky? What the fuck? You hate me so much that you would rather be in a car driven by a drunk than in the same one as me?"

"Daryl, I don't hate you, I –"

"Why didn't you drive the car yourself?," he interrupted me.

"I hurt my knee," I spoke up.

"You still could've driven the car," he pointed out.

Daryl turned away from me, looking outside the window, giving me a perfect outlook on his profile. His fists gripping the window-sill strongly. His lips trembling as if they were holding back from saying anything else. His structure static, his breathing erratic. I kept trying to figure out why he was so mad at me.

_'I could just tell him. Surely he wouldn't laugh at me, right?,'_ I contemplated.

"I can't drive," I admitted softly.

"What?," he asked as a big frown appeared on his forehead.

"I can't drive," I repeated myself, louder this time.

"You never learned how to drive?," he asked with an insulting tone.

"No."

"Your dad never taught you?," he stepped closer to me and grabbed both my arms, making me look at him.

"No," I said weakly, still trying not to look at him.

"Why not? He gave up on you 'cause back then you were already such an annoying brat?," he snapped at me, letting go of my arms.

"Actually he never taught me because my mom and brother died in a car accident," I whispered.

Well, that definitely shut him up. Even though my whisper was barely audible, I knew he had heard what I had said perfectly. Leaving me to witness all sorts of emotions crossing his face. His anger quickly faded away and made room for something much, much worse. Wrinkles of sadness and pity appeared on his forehead, making a deep frown appear.

"Sky, -" he began.

"Fuck this shit," I said, quickly grabbing the blanket I had left on his mattress this morning. I walked out of the geography class as fast as possible.

I don't have to take shit like that from Daryl. I already knew I wasn't going to sleep on his mattress again the moment I had found he was straight, and him yelling at me just confirmed that I had made the right decision.

I walked outside of the building and in the direction of the concierge shed, where Jacques had slept last night. I knew he was going to give me shit and say stuff like 'I told you so' but I honestly didn't care anymore. Staying with these people had emotionally drained me. All their nosy questions at the campfire last night, Daryl's yelling, seeing Lori and her son having an little family argument, hearing the two siblings Beth and Maggie whispering secrets to each other at night,... It was all just too much. I had never been good at human interaction but these past months, just spending time with Jacques had turned my social skills completely down the drain.

I passed T-Dog on my way to the shed.

"Jack's not there, Skylar," he said, making my stop in my tracks.

"Then where is he?"

"I saw him walking off to the woods with a bottle of liquor. "

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"He's having a private party or something?," T-Dog asked.

"Yes, something like that."

"Could you do me a favour, S.?,"

"Depends on the favour, T.," I responded smiling a little.

"I'm not feeling well, and I was about to ask Daryl to take over my watch duties but him and I don't really get along all that well, and I –"

"And what? You're scared to ask him?," I laughed a little. I knew Daryl could throw a tantrum, I mean I had just experienced one myself not even five minutes ago. But a big muscled guy like T-Dog being afraid of Daryl was somewhat hilarious.

"No, nothing like that. More like reluctant to ask him."

"Do you want me to do it?"

"Could you ask him? I've noticed you and him seem to be friends or something like that and –."

"No, I meant do you want me to take over your watch duty?"

"Euh, I'm not sure a skinny girl like you could –"

He stopped as soon as he saw the look on my face. "You sure you want to finish that sentence, T.?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just looking out for the group, you know."

"Yeah, whatever," I said walking into the direction where T-Dog came from.

"Hey, where are you going?," he yelled after me.

"I'm going to do watch. Since you're too much of a chicken to ask Daryl yourself."

"Oh, c'mon, that's not fair."

"Yeah, you know what else isn't fair?"

"What?"

"Life. But we all have to fucking deal with it, anyway."


	10. Watch

**CHAPTER 10: WATCH**

* * *

I had watch with Rick, who was in a talkative mood apparently. But it could've been worse, I guess. I could have had watch with Maggie.

"So you're from Belgium then," Rick stated.

"Yes."

"That's…"

I knew he didn't know anything about Belgium, he was just trying to get the conversation started.

"That's a country between the Netherlands and France," I said.

"But you lived in Britain."

"Yup."

"London or …"

"No, not London."

"Oxford?"

I shook my head. I could tell he was having difficulties trying to name another city in England.

"Manchester? Chelsea?," he asked. _Great, now he's just going to start naming all the football teams. _

"You don't like to talk about yourself, do you?"

"Nope."

I saw a look of disappointment cross his face. I kind of felt bad for Rick, trying so hard to be nice to me, desperately trying to socialize with me.

"I lived in a small village, called Appletreewick," I at least gave him something to go on.

"Sounds charming."

"Yeah, I liked it there most of the time. It could get really quiet, sometimes you heard nothing other than your own thoughts. More sheep than people in the neighbourhood. Sometimes an occasional group of walkers disturbed the silence. And by walker I mean, someone who hikes, you know, not a zombie trying to eat me."

Rick smiled approvingly of me sharing a story with him.

"You think we'll ever get back to that?"

"Back to what?," he asked.

"Back to when the word walker still had that meaning."

"You want a honest answer? Or the soothing answer?

"Whatever answer you feel I need."

"I say it's gonna get worse first, way worse. A lot of blood is going to get spilled over this. A lot of the group's blood, maybe even my own blood or Carl's," Rick struggled to mention Carl's name in that sentence, "But then eventually it will get better. Things are going to get rebuild, society will be repopulated."

I nodded my head.

"I mean you lived in Europe, you've seen the old scars of the First and Second World War. People can bounce back from horrible events like that. Over a hundred years people will tell tales of walkers and it will all seem like a big nightmare, like it never really happened."

"What is the soothing answer then?"

"That was the soothing answer. The honest answer to that question is that humanity is doomed and that we're all dying."

"Oh." Rick thought I needed the soothing answer. _What am I, a child?_

"You know, you can always talk to me if something's wrong."

"The same goes for you, Rick."

"Yeah, I wish talking about problems, made them go away."

Talking about problems, here was one of them walking towards Rick and me.

"I come in peace," Daryl said, holding out a package of cigarettes.

Rick said something about 'cancer sticks' and then something about 'leaving to go inside'. But I couldn't be sure of what he had said exactly, because Daryl had managed to capture my full attention. I quickly grabbed the package out of his hands. If he thought this was going to be enough to make amends…

"I can't believe that T-Dog asked you to come anyway. I told him I had watch covered. What is it with you men?"

"I don't know, girl, why don't you tell me."

"T-Dog doesn't trust me to do watch. What does he think, because I'm a woman I'm incapable of protecting myself and this camp? And this morning Rick didn't want me to go into the clothing store and let me standing outside while Jacques was allowed to join in on the action. And then you –"

"I what?"

"You keep calling me 'girl'."

"So?"

"I'm twenty-six, Daryl. I'm not some little girl, yet all you guys keep treating me like one. I was used to Jacques treating me like that, but you…"

I took a cigarette from the package, lit it and inhaled the smoke deeply.

"You make it sound so patronizing, Daryl. And I really don't like that you called me Frenchie. Hershel explained to me what it meant."

I took another puff from my cigarette. God, I had missed smoking.

"If I ever been a bitch to you, I'm sorry," I said, letting the smoke and frustration slowly disappear from my body.

Daryl came to stand before me and took my cigarette from my lips. I thought he was going to throw it on the floor an start yelling at me again. But instead, he put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled the smoke slowly. "I think sometimes it's difficult for beautiful girls because no one can see past their looks."

_Did he just call me beautiful? _

He noticed my surprised look. "What you can give me compliments, but I can't give you one?"

Daryl handed me the cigarette back as if holding out a peace pipe. "I never thought ya was a bitch. I just can't figure out why you're being so nice to me."

"What? I can be nice," I said, sounding a tad bit insulted.

"Yeah I know. But why are you being nice to _me_?"

"What? People can't be nice to you?," I asked with an astonished tone.

"No," he stated bluntly, "As a matter of fact people usually treat me like shit."

"What do you mean?"

"Call me names, look at me like I'm trash. But you don't do that."

I shook my head.

"Why?"

"_'Why?'_ Why am I being nice to you? That's really what you're asking me?"

"Is there sumthin' in it for you?"

"You seriously believe that I'm just being nice to you just because I need something from you?"

He nodded his head.

"But everyone in this group is being nice to you without needing something from you."

"I'm just the guy with the crossbow to them."

"That's not true. They respect you."

"Yeah, it wasn't always like that, you know. I had to earn their respect. But you just look at me like a man with honour, without me having even done anything."

_'Without even having done anything? He saved my life twice already in two days' time, one might think that's enough to win a medal,'_ I thought.

I shook my head, not understanding at all why he was being so self-conscious.

"You saved my life two times already in two days' time."

"Two times? I'm afraid I already lost count then, I thought it was just that one time in the shop today."

"Yesterday, the razor situation," I reminded him.

"What razor situation?," Daryl asked playfully, handing me the cigarette, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Nice one, Daryl, you know you're a lot smarter than you look."

"Wow, Sky, was that a compliment and an insult in one sentence?"

"Mm," I nodded, inhaling some more nicotine, "Not to forget that disgusting rat."

"Which one? Jack or that other revolting creature eating your pants of?"

"Tss, Daryl, play nice," I chuckled, handing him the cigarette. "That actually counts three times you saved the day in 48 hours. Can't wait to find out what happens tomorrow."

"Tomorrow I'm going to learn you how to drive," he took a final drag from the cigarette and threw the ciggy onto the snow. I saw the bud burning its away into the frozen water, leaving a small vapour.

"But the roads are snowed under."

"Snowed under? A couple of inches of snow and you call that being snowed under? You'll still be able to drive just fine. Especially if I'm your co-pilot."

"Co-pilot? Why're you making it sound like we're going to drive a formula 1 race? "

"You're safe in my hands, Sky. My own brother drove tanks during the gulf war and he taught me how to drive."

_'Well, that's a reassurance'_

"You do realize there are no roads in the Iraqi desert and no snow like here."

"Are you questioning my driving capabilities?," he asked, trying to sound insulted.

I shook my head, holding my both my hands up.

"Your brother's name Merle?"

"Mm," he nodded.

"What's he like?"

"Like me, but more pig-headed."

"More pig-headed? There is no such thing."

He poked me playfully and even though I couldn't feel it through my winter coat, I pretended to try to get away from him. But he wouldn't have it and took both my wrists in his hands while smiling. "Speaking about brothers. I brought ya sumthin' else from the store."

I saw him holding out a chain that matched the gold from my medallion.

"You got your brother with ya?"

"Yeah, always," I said as I pulled the locket with his picture out of my pocket.

I watched Daryl as he tried to attach the medallion as best as he could to the chain. I caught him smiling proudly, holding it in front of me.

"Thanks, Daryl."

"Wait, don't thank me yet. Still have to put it around your neck."

Daryl pulled off my scarf, leaving my neck vulnerable to the cold.

"Turn around."

I did as he asked. I felt the cold gold of the necklace touch my neck, and the contrasting feeling of his warm hands, trying to close the clasp. Apparently he was having difficulties closing the locket, because I felt his hands trembling for about a minute against my neck. 'Stupid clasp won't close' I heard him mumble. His breath danced against my neck the entire time he was struggling. I felt goose bumps appear on my skin and I'm not sure I could blame the chilly wind for that.

"Now you can thank me," he said in my left-ear.

I turned back around, slightly lifted myself up and kissed him on the cheek, whispering "merci" in his left-ear. Completely surprised by my move, I saw him swallow hard and stare at me in shock. I could tell he was holding his breath.

"I … I have to go … do sumthin'," Daryl stuttered.

"Oh, okay," I said, not being able to hide my disappointment.

He immediately fled the place while saying something about sending someone else to do watch.

_'Shit, did I just make things awkward between us again? How do keep fucking up like that? Can't I do anything right? Why did I kiss him on the cheek anyway?'_

All these questions crossed my mind. But there was one question in particular that kept invading my thoughts.

_'Why do I want to do more than kiss him on the cheek?'_


	11. The Drive

**CHAPTER 11: THE DRIVE**

* * *

"Ugh, this is so frustrating," I exclaimed as the motor of the car stopped again. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I yelled as I hit my head three times on the steering wheel, making the horn sound.

"Stop that! Not only are you hurting yourself but you're also letting every walker in the neighbourhood know where we are."

"Why do I suck so bad at this?," I raised my voice as I started to pull my hair.

"Just calm down. Jeez, you're not really patient with yourself, are ya?"

"I just hate it when I can't do something straight away. I mean, c'mon, sixteen-year olds are able to do this. People a decade younger than me."

"Look, let's try it one more time," Daryl suggested.

I shook my head. "I'm stupid. It's not going to work, Daryl."

"Not with that attitude it's not. Getting out of first gear is the hardest part. C'mon, let's try again."

I turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened.

"Shit, do you think the battery died?"

"No, check everything again, Sky."

I quickly saw my mistake. "Oh, it's not in neutral."

I pushed in the clutch and turned the key again. This time, the motor of the car came to life.

"Now push in the clutch and put the stick in first gear," Daryl said while pointing at the gear box.

"Mm, done."

"Now slowly remove your left foot from the clutch pedal and give gas with your right foot."

I tried to do what he asked but the motor stopped abruptly. Again. For the eleventh time that morning, but hey, who's counting?

"Merde! I need a break," I said as I quickly grabbed my jacket of the back seat. I removed my seatbelt, opened the door of the car and walked outside.

I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and lit one of them. Fuck, I was tired. I stayed up all night, waiting for Jacques to return to the concierge's shed. Provided that he only came back just before sunrise, that meant I hadn't slept a lot. And because he smelled like he had fell down in a vat of alcohol, I thought it would be a good idea to postpone our talk until he was sobered up. Or at least less drunk. So I hadn't had the opportunity to talk to him yet about the 'friendly' advice Hershel had given me. But I definitely was going to talk to him about it. I don't think I can even remember the last time I had seen the blond boy sober. Sad, to think that Jacques used to be so nice and normal.

Daryl tapped on the car window, signalling me to come back into the vehicle.

"Okay, Sky, I'm gonna show you one more time how to do it."

Funny, that's what he said the last two times too.

"Come over here," Daryl motioned to his lap.

He saw me looking at him questionably. "Come, it's easier to show you if you're sitting on my lap."

I scooted over to him, made my way over the gear stick and handbrake and sat down on his lap. My back pressed against his chest somewhat awkwardly. He pulled my hair that was in front of his face over my right shoulder so he could see the road properly. A chill went down my spine as he did that.

"Cold?," he asked.

I nodded even though I knew that it was not so much the cold but Daryl's close presence that made me tremble.

"Okay let's try this again," he said after he had turned the heating harder.

The engine of the car started running again.

"Watch this." I felt his legs moving underneath me. "Clutch pedal first, put it in first gear, then slowly remove your left foot as you put down your right foot."

The car started riding slowly. "Now you put it in second gear. That's much easier than first gear."

He removed his feet, allowing me access to the pedals. Somewhere during the process of us replacing feet, I fell against his chest, which led to his face being buried in my hair.

_'Yeah, this isn't awkward,'_ I tried to convince myself.

"Sorry," I said softly.

"'S nothing," he said back, his hot breath tickling the skin on my neck.

I tried to do as he asked, expected to fail once again. But for some reason it was working and I was able to put the car into second gear. He was right, it was a lot easier.

"I can't believe I'm actually driving a car," I said, squeezing his right leg under me. I heard him make a weird sound as he took my hand of his leg and put it on the steering wheel.

"Keep your eyes on the road, you're in control now," Daryl spoke with a deep voice, letting go of the steering wheel and putting his hands on my waist, holding me steady.

There was a small bump on the road which made the car go up and down brusquely.

"Jeez, Sky, eyes on the road!," he yelled in my ear.

"Well, SO-REEH, I didn't see it. You know, with all that snow covering the road," I said sarcastically, "No reason to start yelling in my ear."

I would have continued my whining had it not been that I felt something hard pressing against me. I'm not a child, I knew what it was.

"Daryl?," I asked softly.

"Just ignore it," he groaned.

I looked at his face on my left side. I could see him blushing, trying to avoid my gaze.

"Just look straight ahead, keep your eyes on the road."

"Maybe we should stop the car," I suggested.

"No, just ignore it," he repeated with a shaky voice.

"It's very difficult to ignore it when it's pressing into me," I started to raise my voice. I didn't like where this was going. I wanted out, now.

"Fuck, Sky, stop moving around like that," he whispered into my ear, his breathing accelerating.

"No, I want to get out."

"Just stop moving," He murmered, pressing me down in his crotch. "You can't just get out of a driving vehicle, Sky."

"Then brake!," I yelled at him, pressing down the brake pedal myself.

"NO, SKY!," he yelled, holding me closer.

The car started to slip into the snow. Daryl was trying to hold me close to him but at the same time he tried to get some sort of control over the movements of the car. All sorts of bad things crossed my mind in those mere seconds. This was how my mother and brother had died.

_'Why is that tree coming closer to us? I thought trees couldn't fucking move!,'_ my mind started to panic.

It really looked as if the tree was coming closer to us and the car was standing still. I knew my fate was sealed, I was going to die with Daryl Dixon. Even if the collision with the tree didn't kill us, the cold and walkers outside could. Desperation started to sink in and I started to pray to a god that I did not even believe in.

When the vehicle finally did come to a stop, I slowly opened my eyes again. We were both breathing heavily.

"You okay?"

I shook my head and started to cry. "We almost hit that tree," I murmured.

Daryl picked me up and turned me around so I was facing him, my knees on either side of his legs. He pulled me in close and started to rub my back.

"It's my fault we almost died."

"What? Almost died? We didn't almost die, Sky. We didn't even have an accident. The car is still on the road and doesn't have a scratch. Look, that's at least six feet between the car and the tree, okay?," Daryl said, pointing outside.

I didn't look at the tree, instead I just looked at Daryl's flushed face.

"We just slipped a little, okay," he said, looking back into my eyes.

"Okay," I nodded. Daryl stroked my tears away with his thumb. That gently movement helped starting to slow down my breathing.

As the wave of shock died down, I tried to remember why I had pressed down the brake pedal in the first place and had as a result caused the slipping of the vehicle.

I looked down at his groin to see if it was still there. But instead of seeing an expected hardness, I saw a wet spot on his pair of trousers.

"Did you just –," I asked, unable to finish my sentence.

Daryl began to look around, his gaze completely avoiding in my eyes.

"I…I have to go," I stated, quickly opening the door and stumbling out of the car.

"Sky?" Daryl tried to get a hold of my arm, but I was already out of his reach. I wasn't going to let him touch me again, he had touched me enough already.

As I started walking into the direction of the school, I kept repeating _'don't you dare come after me'_ in my head, like a mantra. But Daryl could of course not hear my thoughts, and decided to follow me on foot anyway.

"Hey! Come back here!" I heard him coming after me, trying to keep up with my pace. "What are you going to do? Walk home? It's at least a mile by foot."

"You're not even wearing your jacket," he tried to reason with me, but I just could not and would not respond to him.

"Sky, stop," Daryl stood before me, holding both his hands up in the air as if trying to show me he wouldn't touch me. He took off his jacket and tossed it over my shoulders. I had almost said 'thank you', had it not been for the mere fact that I could see the wet spot on his pants again.

He saw me looking at his groin. "What do you want me to say? I'm not going to apologize for being a man, Sky."

"You don't get to touch me anymore," I whispered breathlessly, passing him and setting my pace even faster.

I walked home that day. A mile on the snow-covered asphalt. The entire time I heard the rumbling of a car engine behind me, knowing that the driver was watching my back very carefully, making sure no walkers would appear from the bushes. Yet the only thing I could think was how much I hated him. I hated him for trying to teach me how to drive a car. I hated him for putting me into that position. I hated him for giving me a jacket that smelled exactly like him. But most of all I hated him for making me like him.

_'Fucking Daryl Dixon.'_


	12. Gentle man

**CHAPTER 12: GENTLE MAN**

* * *

My estimation is that it would be the month of March right now. Days of rain would alternate with days of pure blissful sunshine. Although, there was not a burning warmth as during the summer months in Georgia yet, the temperature was definitely rising. The sun managed to create a bright spot into our dark lives. Everyone seemed happy.

Well, everyone except Daryl.

The sun might have turned the snowman Carl and Beth had made into a pool of water, something that couldn't be melted by the sun were the cold stares Daryl has been sending me since our last conversation in the car. Sure, I still wished him 'good mornings' and 'good evenings' and he would always mumble something incomprehensible back. But it has been an estimated seven weeks since Daryl and I have had an actual conversation. Not that have I been counting the days or something like that.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry even though, I didn't feel I had done anything wrong. I just wanted to get over the constant feeling of awkwardness and go back to how things were before, when we were trying to be friends. At least that was what I had tried to be with him. Friends. Never had it crossed my mind that maybe Daryl wanted something else from me other than friendship.

_'I'm not going to apologize for being a man, Sky.'_ That was the last full sentence he had said to me.

I looked over to where he was standing. Both Rick and Daryl were chopping wood because even though the days were nice and sunny, the nights still could be surprisingly cold. I raised my head a bit higher so I could observe his movements better.

He was lifting the axe above his head, strengthening his already well-formed biceps and triceps. Then he took that red-coloured rag out of his left-pocket to clean the sweat dripping of his forehead. I could not understand why he would not just take of his shirt and chop the wood bare-chested like Rick was doing. Wasn't he warm, doing such labour in this heat?

_'I'm not going to apologize for being a man, Sky,'_ I kept repeating that sentence in my head. Sure, Daryl was a man like he said. What more could I expect from him?

"Hey Carl."

"Miss," he said, bowing slightly while doffing his sheriff hat to me. Daryl might not be the gentleman of the group, it was definitely Carl who had taken up that role. "You doing something, Skylar?"

"No, just daydreaming," I said, smiling slightly as I shook my head. "Why? You want to do something together?"

Carl had surprised me over the course of those seven weeks of Daryl's silence, by asking me to hang out with him. And I had surprised myself by genuinely enjoying spending time with him.

"I was thinking maybe we could go to the pool together? Maybe go swimming?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. Let me just ask your dad first, okay?"

Although I was not really sure why, I knew for a fact that Lori wasn't a fan of my growing friendship with Carl. And I didn't want to step on her toes by taking Carl away from the group without asking for permission. As I got closer to the two men chopping wood, my heart started to race. I stopped about eight feet from where Daryl was standing. This was close enough.

"Rick," I said, motioning him to come closer.

"Hey, Skylar, everything okay?" Rick asked while placing his hand on my shoulder. I could not be sure whether he was holding on to me due to exhaustion or because it was a friendly gesture. Either way, it felt surprisingly encouraging.

"Yeah, I just wanted to ask you if Carl and I could go to the pool together for a swim."

"Sure, that's a great idea. Just make sure to keep your eyes open at all times," Rick squeezed his hand on my shoulder.

I wondered if the only reason why Rick had allowed Carl to go with me was because there was a fence around the pool. Or because he was still able to see us from where he was standing.

But I also couldn't help but think that Rick maybe really did trust me with his son. See, Rick and I often had watch together we had started building up a strong bond. Sometimes we would talk about anything. Other times we would just say nothing to each other and it would still feel right.

"Yeah, you'll still be able to see the pool from over here," I said, waving a quick goodbye to Rick.

"Daryl." I nodded in his direction, even though his back was standing to me. Normally he would always grunt or mumble something in response, but he didn't even bother doing either this time.

_'Fuck him, I don't care,'_ Repeating that phrase these past seven weeks had been my feeble attempt of trying to convince myself I didn't care two hoots about Daryl.

I walked back over to where Carl was standing and signalled him to follow me to the pool. Carl ran off, yelling 'race you there' and immediately jumped into the water. I sat myself down at the side of the swimming pool, looking over to where Daryl was chopping the wood. _'Yeah, I really don't care about him._'

"What're you thinking about?," Carl asked me.

"Nothing."

"Is that right?"

"Yes, are you implying otherwise?"

"You just have this constant look on your face like you're hiding some big secret."

"Is that right?," I bluntly repeated his question and smirked. The Grimes men always asking questions. _'Like father, like son.'_

"Yup," Carl said matter-of-factly.

"You want to hear one of my secrets?"

As soon as I saw Carl's eyes getting wider, I knew I had captured his attention. He swam closer to me with a remarkable fast speed.

"First you must promise me not to tell anyone," I told him.

"I promise," Carl quickly responded, holding his two fingers up in the air as if swearing an oath.

"Anyone!," I repeated, raising my voice.

"Yes, yes, I promise."

"Not to your mother, your father, Beth,…"

"Yeah, I won't, you can trust me! I won't tell anyone."

"Alright, come closer, walls have ears, remember." I quickly looked around to make sure no one was hearing what I was going to say next.

"I can't swim," I whispered in his ear.

"You can't swim?"

"Nope."

"What? That's so weird. My dad taught me, didn't yours give you swimming lessons when you were younger?"

"No, my father wasn't exactly a patient man."

"You want me to teach you?"

"No it's fine, I'll just sit over here while you swim."

I was quietly enjoying the rays of sun warming my body, until a football hit the water and splashed a large amount of pool water over my clothes.

"Carl, my man!," Jacques yelled, waving excitedly at the young boy.

"Jack!," Carl yelled right back at him, splashing his legs enthusiastically in the water. "You're feeling better?"

"Much better."

After our serious chat a couple of weeks ago, Jacques had stopped drinking. Well, not completely yet, but he was gradually getting better, one day at the time. Every day the trembling of his hands would lessen and his eyes would lose their blank look. Eventually, his need for alcohol would die down.

"You got me wet," I said to Jacques.

At that precise moment Daryl passed by us, walking directly into the woods, completely ignoring the three of us. I understood why he didn't want to say hi to me and Jacques since he clearly hated the both of us, but he could at least say something to Carl. _'What a wanker.'_

"Oh, Skylar, that's the nicest thing you've said to me so far," Jacques replied, pulling my attention back to him.

"Iew, can't believe you just said that to me." That was so gross that Jacques of all people would say something like that to me. He reminds me too much of my brother for me to actually like him that way.

"You can't say something like that to me and then not expect a comeback like that, sweetie," he said, winking at me.

Jacques turned back around to Carl. "Wanna play a game?"

"Yes, finally, someone who isn't boring," Carl replied, leaving me standing with my mouth open. Forget what I said about Carl being the gentleman of the group.

"Let's play water-football," Jacques suggested.

"What's that?"

Jacques quickly explained the rules of the game to Carl, although I'm pretty sure he changed a couple of them in his advantage because he won every single round. Carl, however, was not discouraged by this and continued trying to win at least one game. I just stayed seated quietly at the side-lines, handing the boys the ball back if it went outside the game lines. That was until Jacques kicked the ball really hard, screaming "GOAL!" loud, which led to the ball being kicked deep into the forest surrounding the school.

"Are you kidding me, Jacques. Who do you think you are, Leo Messi?," I yelled at him, raising my hands in the air.

"I consider myself to be more like Christiano Ronaldo. Looking as good as I do," Jacques said jokingly, making Carl giggle.

"You definitely have his ego, for sure."

"Just get the ball back, girlie," he said, pointing at the trees.

"Fine, Carl keep an eye on Mr. Bean over here while I'll go fetch the football."

"C'mon Jack, let's see who can hold his breath the longest."

I walked away from the happy duo, hearing a big splash behind me. '_Yes, Jacques was definitely being himself again.'_

I could not find the stupid ball, no matter where I looked. Jacques had kicked the damn thing too hard. I was planning on going back to the pool to tell him and Carl that I could not find the football. But something blinking in the sun caught my attention. As I came closer to the object lying on the grass, I saw it was the axe Daryl had used earlier to chop the wood logs. I picked it up from the ground and looked around to see where he had gone, but I could not see anything but trees and bushes at first.

I was about to turn back around when I suddenly heard a groaning sound. With no particular expectations in mind, I followed the sound of murmurs, which let me to a big, beautiful oak tree. Even though the tree was still leafless, I admired its staggering beauty for it must have been at least a hundred years old.

The beauty of the moment however was brutally vanished as soon as I lowered my gaze and saw Daryl leaning against the tree in the most inappropriate position.

Even though, his back was turned towards me, I knew perfectly well what he was doing to himself. His right shoulder was vigorously moving up and down, as his left hand was holding onto one of the thick branches of the tree. His knuckles turning white, his breathing accelerating, just like he had been doing in the car seven week ago. This time, however, I was not scared of the scene displaying in front of my eyes. This time it did not disgust me. This time I was okay with admitting to myself that I liked it, even if that thought did sound disturbing in my mind.

For the first time in weeks, his entire being seemed to be relaxing, the tension in his shoulders was slowly leaving his body. He seemed peaceful, dare I even say happy? It was nice seeming him like that, it even crossed my mind that I would like to be the reason behind his happiness.

But the fact of the matter was that I had caught Daryl during his most private moment and I needed to leave him alone. I turned away from him, starting to move back to the pool. But I stopped in my tracks as soon as I heard him groan my name.

"Sky"

* * *

**Author:** I know what a shit way to end a chapter. But I still have to study Spanish grammar and I can't do that if I'm writing a story in English. I'll either upload tomorrow or the day after that.


	13. Underneath an oak

**CHAPTER 13: UNDERNEATH AN OAK**

* * *

"Sky"

At first, I thought Daryl had said my name because he had seen me, so before I turned back around, my mind was already trying to think of an excuse, a lie, anything that could get me out of this situation.

When I finally did find the guts to face him again I noticed to my surprise that he was just continuing touching himself, his back still turned towards me.

That was the first time he had said my name in seven weeks. And he was doing that while he was getting himself off? For weeks he had giving me nothing but grunts and icy stares and now this?

The shock of the moment made me drop the axe I was holding. It fell out of my hands and onto the grass. Up until today I keep wondering what would have happened between us if I had never dropped that axe. He would have never turned around, he would have never seen me and he probably would have continued his life without me.

A scary thought, to say the least. But at that precise moment, however, I did not consider my clumsiness a blessing. I cursed myself for it. Because he_ did_ hear the soft thud of the axe hitting the ground, he _did_ turn around and he _did_ see me.

All sorts of curse words escaped his mouth while he was trying to put his pair of jeans back on. He was however having difficulties closing the zipper of his pants because his cock was still erected. I tried to give him some privacy, by looking at the ground, which was silly of course given that I had just witnessed him masturbating.

When I could hear the sound of his zipper closing, I slowly looked up to him. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide in despair, his hands clenched in fists. _'He is just as embarrassed about this as me. Good, he should be.'_

"Sky, I'm sorry, I –"

I shook my head at him, signalling him to wait his turn. I needed to say a couple of things to him first. Some things I needed to get off my chest.

I looked down at my feet and pinched the bridge of my nose as I desperately tried to focus on what I was going to tell him. But all these strange thoughts kept invading my mind. This mixture of emotions engulfed my brain, making it impossible for me to think straight.

After a minute or so, I had managed to bring myself under control and said, "It's been there for weeks now, almost two full months even –" My throat suddenly constricted mid-sentence, I took a deep breath and continued, "this thing between you and me." I raised my hands pointing them from him to me because I was not really sure what else to do with my arms. I knew there was something going on between us, because Daryl made me behave ridiculously. He wasn't even saying anything, he was just standing there, looking at me, yet he managed to make me feel so awkward about everything I said and did.

"All these weeks I have been furious with you –and with myself," I admitted, "I was convinced that I could be perfectly happy with you ignoring me. I thought you giving me the cold shoulder would make this whole thing between us go away. And I was so angry with you when that didn't work," I let out a short nervous laugh as I said that last part, thinking back at the several times I had gotten so mad at him that I actually wanted to hit him in the face. The truth of the matter was that I would not have really hit him to hurt him, but I would have done it to make him look at me. I would have done anything to get his attention, to make his eyes meet mine.

"How could I have been so ignorant about my own feelings? How could I have been so stupid," I whispered, shaking my head. "And now I don't know what to do about it. I don't know –," my throat became dry, "I don't know what this is. I don't know what's supposed to happen next."

A frightening thought ran through my head. _'Maybe I have been making this whole thing up. Maybe he does not feel the same way.'_

_'But then why would say my name while trying to get himself off. He must feel that there is something between us, too. This isn't just physical attraction, right?' _

I looked up at him, hoping that he could provide me with some answers, but he looked just as clueless about this whole thing as me.

I heard a wet sound coming from his mouth. The kind of noise that is made when one is about to speak and the tong hits the roof of the mouth. But not a single word escaped his lips. We just stared at each other in equal confusion, both sensing that something delicate was coming into existence between us.

"What do you want to happen?," his deep voice finally broke the silence.

In a moment of boldness I took a couple of steps in his direction. He moved further away until his back was completely against the oak. But I could tell he was not doing it because he did not want me to come closer. I knew he wanted me there. He was watching me approach him, but for some reason it felt like he was the one luring me in.

I stared straight back into his piercing blue eyes, leaning forward gently. Our noses almost touching, but not quite yet.

He did not kiss me, he did not even touch me. Instead, he kept looking at me as if not believing I was really standing in front of him, offering myself to him.

I therefore decided to take matters into my own hands. I did really wanted to kiss him but just not on the lips. So I put my hands on his shoulders, completely ignored his parted lips and started kissing his neck instead. Even though, I had just made that bold move, I was still rather shy about this entire situation.

But the strange sound my kissing drew from him changed that. It made me realize that I wanted this just as much as him. Daringly, my hand fell on his belt buckle and removed it from his pair of jeans. When the leather belt hit the grass hard, a sound like the crack of a whip emerged. A small mischievous smile crossed his lips.

I kissed his throat, forcing his head back against the bark of the tree. That self-conscious girl in the car had vanished. The noise escaping his lips was making me greedy and was encouraging me to take this further. All the things that had scared me before, all the reasons that had kept me away from him seemed so silly and insignificant now. His hands curled up to my sides and started touching me. Due to his touch my spine went rigid and my concentration down.

I wanted to focus on doing a good job and I was not going to able to do so if he kept touching me like that. I grabbed his hands from my sides, lifted them above his head and used his belt to tie them to one of the lower branches of the tree. His face flabbergasted as I did that. Big frowns of panic made his forehead wrinkle. I could tell it was not in Daryl's character to give control over to someone else. But I knew he would enjoy what was going to come next.

As soon as he saw me biting my bottom lip, he lead in as if to kiss me. I knew this was his desperate attempt at regaining control, so I just pushed him back towards the tree.

I got down on my knees in front of him while slowly licking my lips. As soon as I pried the zipper of his jeans, his still erected cock jumped out. From my position on my knees I looked up at Daryl's face and waited a couple of seconds for his blue eyes to meet my green ones. I really liked how he was looking at me, right then and there.

Vulnerable.

Waiting for my touch.

The tip of my tongue shot out and teasingly licked the skin at the head of his cock. His entire posture immediately tensed at the brief contact. I kept eye-contact with him as I put my mouth around his large dick. He threw his head back and started mumbling. His hands were desperately trying to get out of the leather belt but found it impossible to escape from their trap.

After earning another moan from him, I wrapped one of my hands around his cock and took him deep in my mouth once again. Because he was so big it was difficult for me to take him in all the way, my hand wrapped around his base started stroking him as my mouth mainly focused on his head. Multitasking, all the way.

Up and down. Over and over again. Faster and faster.

I knew he was getting close to cuming when his hips started to thrust uncontrollably. After weeks of looking at his bum, I could not help myself but place both my hands on his butcheeks and squeeze them. And that did it. My name escaped his lips, followed by a warm liquid spurting down my throat. My mouth stayed attached to his cock until I had swallowed all of him and I was sure that he was completely dry.

As I rose and my face came on the same level as his again, I saw how much of an effect the orgasm had had on him. His forehead, bathing in sweat. His lips, trembling with each outlet of air. His breathing, shallow and rapid. His entire body, violently vibrating.

I began to wonder if untying him would be a smart idea because I was not really sure he could still stand on his two legs without the support of the tree.

But leaving him hanging here in the middle of the forest wasn't an option either, so I freed his hands from the belt. Like I thought, he needed to steady himself by holding onto the branch of the tree.

I sat back down on my knees so I could pull his trousers back up. He reached out to me and cupped my cheek gently. I was about to get up from kneeling position again but he stopped my movements by taking his red-coloured rag out of his pocket and cleaning my mouth with it.

"Sky," he whispered again, his eyes twinkling with pure happiness.


	14. Laundry day

**Chapter 14: Laundry day**

"First you sort out the clothes. The coloured ones in that basin, dark and white in a separate bucket. Then, you add detergent to the clothes in the basin. Please, Skylar, keep in mind that clothing is heavier and harder to manage when wet," I nodded vigorously at Lori's explanation, even though she had lost my attention about five minutes ago, "Warm water is better for heavily soiled clothes so you warm the water in the fireplace over there," she pointed at the fireplace as if I did not know what fire looked like, "but you have to be careful because really hot water can shrink cotton and wool. Hot water is the best for socks because it kills the fungi."

'_Iew, I'm going to touch other people's sweaty socks,' _I made a face which the alert Jacques saw. He was now holding his right-hand in front of his month, so he could suppress a laugh.

Lori nevertheless continued her explanation "Then, you let the clothes soak in the water for about 20 minutes. After which you will use this toilet bowl plunger to agitate the clothes with an up and down action," she said, showing just how to do it. Jacques started to laugh wildly at the movements Lori was making, but just like last time she completely ignored him. "You can use your hands just as well, but it is just easier with the plunger. Drain out the water and let them dry on the playground and make sure to put a rock on them so the wind doesn't blow them away, got it?"

I nodded 'yes' while Jacques shook his head 'no'.

Lori sighed deeply before walking away from us.

"Can you just be serious for five seconds," I asked Jacques while playfully smacking his arm.

"Well, you got me into this, I might as well have some fun."

He was right, I had gotten him into doing laundry with me. See, after I had gotten back out the woods, the rest of the afternoon had gone by quiet, apart from the occasional exclaims of Jacques and Carl playing in the water. I told them to keep it down, but apparently I did not have the same authorizing tone like Lori and Rick had. So the boys just continued their messing about in the pool, completely ignoring my advice to turn it down a notch. Up to the point that Lori came complaining they were making too much noise and might attract walkers. Lori had found it necessary to remind me of my female duties, saying "Skylar, you should stop seeing this as a holiday and start working."

That is what she said to me. For real. When she saw the disagreeing look on my face, she continued her plea, "It is just that you and Jacques both haven't been doing a lot for the group lately. You guys are always so isolated from the group. The only people you and Jacques talk to is each other, Rick and Carl."

I suppose that was true. My mind had been preoccupied with sobering up Jacques. And quite honestly I could not be bothered with doing the laundry of an entire group so I just washed Jacques and my clothes.

"But I do watch duties with the guys and Maggie all the time," I tried to reason with Lori

"You're right about that. It's just that…"

"What?"

"Well, you never offer us a hand," Lori said, pointing at Carol and herself.

"Well, you never asked for my help, so I assumed you didn't need it."

'_What the hell, I can't smell people's needs, if you want my help, then all you got to do is ask,'_ was what I really wanted to say.

I might not be good at communicating with people, but I am adept at reading people's body language. And I could tell Lori was not pleased with me saying that last sentence. Given that she was the uncrowned first lady of this group, it would be best not to piss her off. So I bit my tongue and said the following instead. "Lori, do you need a hand with that laundry basket."

"If you could be so kind."

After which I somehow dragged Jacques into doing laundry too. But it was only fair, it is not because I am the one with the vagina, I should have to do the laundry. Furthermore, I did not like the thought of leaving Jacques alone for too long, he might sneak off somewhere and drink alcohol. I was not sure I could fully trust him yet.

"I thought men weren't allowed to do laundry," Jacques remarked.

"Well, today is your lucky day, Jacques, 'cause I'm all for male emancipation," I said.

"How did you guys meet again," Carol interrupted. There was always such a quiet way about this woman, I had almost forgotten she was standing there.

"You tell her, Skylar," Jacques said.

"No, you're a much better storyteller, you tell her," I threw it right back at him.

"Fine then, I was on an exchange study programme in the US, obviously."

"Oh, what were you majoring in," Carol asked.

"Pharmaceutical science, actually," Jacques said.

"He wasn't majoring in pharmaceutical science, it was more like failing," I interjected.

"Stop it, you said I should tell the story, now let me. So I was studying –"

"More like partying," I intercepted.

"Could you please stop interrupting the storyteller," Jacques said, splashing me with water.

"So I was studying at the Georgia State University in Atlanta and one day I went to this bar where Skylar was working."

"You worked in a bar?"

"Yep, a pub actually. The owner only hired me because I sound British. He thought I would give the bar some authenticity. I was a bartender/dish washer/cocktail mixer/cleaning lady/ bouncer/ occasional cook."

"You really did not want to eat there when she was cooking."

"Oh, shut up. It was an English pub. Food does not tend to be any good in English pubs, okay. I was merely continuing the British tradition of serving typical pub grub."

"So that's how you guys met? In a pub in Atlanta? You became friends after that?"

There was more to the story than Jacques had let on. He was only 19 when we met so he was not really allowed to walk into a pub and drink alcohol. But because I desperately needed money, I never asked for his ID if he gave me some extra cash. I knew I was indirectly to blame for Jacques' alcohol addiction. I had allowed it to happen, all because I was short on money.

"Yeah, we're BBF's now," he said, winking at me.

Jacques went on conversing with Carol as my gaze fell on Daryl and Rick talking to each other in the shadow of one of the trees. Comparing to how Daryl was like this morning, and then afternoon after our brief encounter, I think it is safe to say that he really liked what I had done to him. I smiled, thinking back to when Daryl came out of the woods five minutes after me and handed me the football with a big smirk. That grin remained on his face for the rest of the afternoon. It was funny to see his swift change in mood. Now he was talking friendly with Rick while an occasional laugh crossed his lips, his shoulders were not hunched forward like usual. In fact, Daryl showed more confidence than ever. _'Fuck, did I do that?'_

A loud whistle from Jacques, standing next to me, did not only bring me back to reality, but it also made Rick and Daryl look over at the washing place. If Daryl had not yet noticed me staring at him, he would certainly know now because I was blushing deeply and desperately trying to look at anything but him.

"Wow, creeper much," Jacques remarked.

"Fuck you, you just completely humiliated me."

"Oh, that's what best friends do, don't they?," he smirked, "Now the real question is, were you staring at the married man or the hillbilly?," he asked.

"I told you not to call him that."

"Well, that answers my question then," Jacques said, handing me some detergent.

"You know, you should stay away from him, he's got 'trouble' written all over him."

"No, he hasn't."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot you're illiterate. You don't see how it's written all over his face," he whispered in my ear.

"You know what, Jacques? Fuck you for bringing that up. That's a new low for you," I yelled in his face.

"You guys doing okay?," Carol asked, clearly worried about how fast things had gone sour between us.

"Yeah, no worries, I'm just having a FRIENDLY discussion with my FRIEND over here, giving her some FRIENDLY advice 'cause that is what FRIENDS do," Jacques said mockingly.

Carol looked from my face to Jacques', struggling with the dilemma of either asking us what we are arguing about or leaving us alone. She decided to go with the latter. I could not blame her, it was the smart thing to do. She moved away from us and started placing the clothes we had washed on the playground so they could dry.

I managed to control myself for about a minute until I burst out. "I shouldn't have to listen to anything you tell me to do. You're not my brother, you're not my father –"

"Yes, THANK GOD I'm not your father, 'cause then I'd be in jail," he interrupted me impolitely.

We would have continued our 'friendly' discussion had it not been for a strange vehicle driving up the playground, riding over the clean clothes Carol had just put on the ground.

"You shitting me? We just spend the last two hours cleaning those clothes! Whoever is driving that car, deserves a punch in the –," Jacques stopped as soon as he saw the driver getting out of the car.

"beautiful face," he mumbled as he took in the blonde bombshell looking around at the school building.

Behind Blondie I could see a brown-haired man in his thirties trying to help an older women out of the back seat, but the older lady pushed his hand away. Rick and Daryl quickly approached the threesome. T-Dog and Hershel came back from watch and were just as stunned as everyone else to see that there were still other breathing people walking around on this earth. I had never seen Jacques walk so fast without actually starting to run. But unlike Jacques, I was not too keen on meeting these new people and sauntered slowly over to the newcomers. By the time I had arrived, it seemed like I had already missed the first introductions.

'_What a pity,' _my mind commented sarcastically.

A circle had formed itself around the three strangers. I did not really see a way in the crowd of people without pushing someone else away, so I just stayed outside of the circle. On the other side of the group I could see Daryl standing by himself, staring straight at me. Just like me, he seemed reluctant to meet these people. I gave him a small smile but he just kept squinting his eyes at me in silence like he was trying to figure something out.

I tugged at the back of Jacques' T-shirt to signal him I wanted to be in the circle, anything to get Daryl to stop staring at me like that.

Jacques grabbed both my shoulders and pulled me in the circle, letting me stand before him.

"I believe this calls for a celebration," Jacques said.

"You think everything calls for a celebration," T-Dog said.

"Did you see how Daryl was looking at me," I quietly asked Jacques.

"Shh," Jacques said.

"Did you just shush me?"

"I'm trying to listen to what Justine is saying."

'_Oh God, the player is coming out.' _

Jacques' flirting techniques were not what was worrying me, it was Daryl giving me that look. I had always been so good at reading other people. I used to always have the right first impression about someone, but then I met Daryl. And now I am not so sure anymore.

Daryl looked angry with me. Although I can't remember doing anything wrong. '_Maybe he isn't angry with me, but just angry in general,'_ I hoped.

"What's your name," a female voice asked.

"Skylar, her name is Skylar," Jacques responded for me.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Justine," she said politely while holding out her hand. Jacques gave me a slight push forward so I would shake her hand, but I did not reach out my hand. I really did not know what but there was definitely something about her that I did not like. Her blond hair was big, like it was filled with secrets. Her haughty eyes kept looking at me. But I think it was most of all her smile that set me of. Because it was fake as hell. I could know, I'm the expert on fake smiles.

"This is Rose," she said, pointing at the senior lady. Rose did not want to shake my hand, but gave a bright smile instead. No physical contact, I was cool with that. Contrary to the one Justine gave me, the smile of Rose was real and genuine, almost childish even.

"She has dementia," I was thinking out loud.

"How do you know that?," Justine asked.

"She just looks like –," I stammered, surprised at myself for bluntly saying my thoughts out loud.

"What you got that by just looking at her?," Justine interrupted me, not hiding the disbelief in her voice.

"Yes," I simply said.

"Prove it," Justine said, clearly doubting me.

"You and your husband," I began.

"He's not my husband," she stopped me.

"You and whatever," I restarted my explanation.

"Robert, his name is Robert," Justine said. '_Fuck, I am already annoyed by her and I've just met the girl.'_

"Could you please stop interrupting me as I'm trying to make a point here."

She rolled her eyes at me, just then. Was I the only one who had seen it? I decided not to let it bother me, and attempted to explain my diagnosis for the third time.

"You and Robert still look like you're taking care of yourselves, even though you've probably been on the road for quite a while. You both look well-fed and clean. Were as Rose clearly neglects her personal hygiene and nutrition that's probably because she declines any form of help or physical contact. When you just introduced yourself to me, Justine, Rose looked surprised as if it was the first time she had heard your name, which means that she does not recognize familiar people. Plus, she has one of the brightest and most innocent smile I have ever seen, which can only mean two things. One, she's either five years old, which I think we can all say she is not. Or two, she has no idea what is going on with the world right now," I wanted to add '_BAM, got you, didn't I,_' but that would have just sounded cocky. I was wrong, I was still good at reading people. Daryl was just the exception.

"You got all that by just looking at her," Justine repeated her question, clearly still doubting my qualities as a judge of character.

"I was just being observant, no big deal," I said shrugging my shoulders, "I knew that you weren't going to tell Rick, because you might be afraid we would consider all of you a burden and kick you back out to fend for yourselves. But I think it would be best if the masks already fell off now and we won't keep secrets for each other," I knew I was being a hypocrite because I did not tell the group of Jacques' problem with alcohol but there was something about this girl…I could just feel it. She knew I had her. I gave her one of my best fake smiles back, staring straight at her.

"She's my grandmother and she started losing her memory around the same time this virus started spreading. We've managed to keep her safe all this time, That has to count for something," Robert spoke up.

"If one of you two stays with Rose at all times and she stays indoors, I don't think it would be much of a problem to have her around," Rick said, sounding like a righteous leader.

"Good, now that's decided. I heard someone says something about a celebration," Justine asked, stopping her cold stare at me.

"Yeah, that was me," Jacques said, pushing me out-of-the-way.

Justine and Jacques walked inside of the school building arm in arm, leaving the rest of us to deal with a vehicle filled with stuff.

'_Yeah, this is going to be a fucking party,'_ I thought.

* * *

**Author**: _I knew there wasn't a lot of Daryl and Skylar in this chapter. But the next chapter will definitely contain the both of them interacting. I've already written a big part of the next chapter and I'm planning on uploading it on thursday. _

_I just really wanted to focus more on the relationship Skylar has with other people, like Jacques. Because he is her only link to her past and Skylar doesn't like to talk about herself, the only way you will get to know her better is through Jacques._


	15. Façade

**CHAPTER 15: FACADE  
**

* * *

My eyes travelled over the familiar and strange faces of the people sitting around the campfire. Daryl was gazing at Robert on my right, who was sitting so close to me that I could feel his breath tickling my right cheek. It was yucky, by the way. His breath, I mean.

Now, I know that using that word 'yucky' is not really mature, but I could not think of another way to describe the smell. I am sure that Robert used to be a clean man at some point, but I suspect that these whole zombie event had gotten the best of his personal hygiene. Given that I was in the same position as him a couple of weeks ago, I completely understood his lack of hygiene but why did he find it necessary to sit so damn close to me? And then the sound Robert made while he was breathing, it was like this constant peeping noise he made every time he inhaled and exhaled.

As I tried to ignore the constant reminder of someone sitting way too close to me, I looked over at Jacques. He was watching Justine, who was checking her nails.

Nobody really knew what to say to each other.

Well, no one except Justine.

Justine kept talking and talking and talking without really saying anything. She is that type of girl that just does not know when to shut up. Still, Jacques was listening very carefully to every word coming out of her mouth. He was sitting on my left, openly staring at Justine. At first, Justine was trying to maintain eye contact with everyone else as she talked, as if trying to grasp everyone's attention. But after noticing Daryl was not giving her any attention, she kept looking at him, as if she was directly talking to him.

_'Wow, someone's desperate for attention.'_

It was awkward, to say the least.

Robert on my right, was looking at me. He was a skinny man, mid-thirties maybe, with brown saggy hair. My guess, he used to work in the IT department of some company or with robots or something technical for sure. He was one of those 'adorkable' guys, which is cute I guess, if you are into that sort of man.

"Would you like some candy," Robert asked, holding out a bag of sweets.

"No, thank you," I said politely while looking at the sugar-coated contents of the bag.

"Yeah, my mother always told me not to take candy from strangers. Bet she said the same to you too," Robert said.

Given that my mother passed away in a rather early stage of my life, she never had a chance to give me warnings that involved candy and weird strangers, or any advice of that matter. Maybe she did gave me some advice but it just did not really stick in my infant mind.

"No, my common sense always told me not to take sweets from a stranger," I replied, hoping that he would take that statement as a sign of my reluctance of continuing this conversation.

Robert however apparently thought it was the perfect conversation starter.

"Skylar was it, right," Robert asked, making sure that after tonight we would not be strangers anymore.

I nodded, thinking _'Fuck, I hate small talk.'_

Not that I wanted to hear Justine talk about a Lotus car she used to own. She probably thought talking about sportcars would help getting Daryl's attention. But it did not help at all. In fact, Daryl was looking at me and Robert 'conversing' away.

Daryl only looked away from us when Justine offered him a can of beer. "If you want more, I still have some laying on my mattress," she said. '_My god, is she giving Daryl an open invitation to her bed?'_ That girl really could not be subtle. Daryl just shrugged as he opened the beer can. Did he not notice Justine was hitting on him? Or did he simply not care?

"No, wait, I still have some," Robert spoke up while pulling a six-pack from behind him and handing it out to everyone else.

I was not planning on drinking beer, that was until I saw T-Dog hand the last can of the six-pack over to Jacques. Sensing an immediate danger of a relapse, I instantly grabbed it out of his hands, saying "You have to be a gentleman, Jacques and offer ladies a drink first before grabbing one for yourself."

"Well, I only see one lady here and it ain't you, Sky," Jacques said, winking at Justine.

_'I guess Justine isn't the only one desperate for some attention of the other sex,' _I thought while opening the can and taking a sip of beer.

"Don't take it personally, Jack. Her British side is coming out, that's all," Robert remarked.

I looked at him, not understanding what Robert was saying, while still drinking down the beer.

"You know, drinking all that beer," he explained.

I could have replied with a classic 'piss off', but then I probably would have choked on the beer.

"That's not her British side, man. That is her Belgian heritage showing," Jacques commented.

"What? You're Belgian," Robert asked, sounding surprised.

"British mom, Belgian dad. But I can assure you. Her daddy got some pretty strong genes," Jacques smirked.

I knew Jacques was just trying to insult me by comparing me to my father. He was obviously mad at me for taking his beer. In order to stop him from spilling secrets that were not his to tell, I mouthed 'I know where you sleep' to him. I knew a muscled man like Jacques did not feel threatened by me in any way, but still he did not say anything further.

"You know, my grandmother Rose is actually Dutch," Robert said.

"Wow, no shit," I said, not sounding surprised at all. Dutch are always everywhere, if you really look for them. They are the European alternative to Japanese tourists. By that I mean that they are literally everywhere. Preferably with a caravan. Only Dutch tourists are not as recognisable as the Japanese, walking around with their Nikon photograph camera's.

"Yes, she moved out of Europe after the second World War when she was just twelve. You ever been to the Netherlands?"

"Where is Rose, anyway," I asked, desperately trying to divert his attention from me by changing the subject.

"She's safely tucked in, don't worry. So, you ever been to the Netherlands," Robert asked again.

"No, I haven't."

I just lived in Belgium for a while, then my dad and I moved to a small community in Britain and never set foot out of that damn village.

"Oh, I have," Jacques said, lifting his arm up as if asking for permission to speak. "Looks pretty much the same as here, but flatter. And you know, loads of dope and whores."

"Jacques," I sussed him.

"Could you not say that word in front of Carl," Lori asked, sounding upset.

"Which word? Dope? Or was it whore, " Jacques repeated, making Lori gasp at his use of words. Lori even tried to cover Carl's ears, but the boy just would not have it. "Mooom," Carl sighed in embarrassment.

"I bet your son has both heard and seen worse things than that," Jacques said before standing up.

"Where are you going," I asked.

"I'm off to bed. And by 'bed' I mean, uncomfortable mattress on the concrete floor," he said, waving goodbye to everyone before walking to the shed.

Completely ignoring what had just transpired between Lori and Jacques, Robert continued asking me questions.

"But you're Belgian, so you can speak Dutch right," he asked.

"Yeah," I mumbled, still stunned at Jacques' sudden departure.

"I can understand a bit of Dutch myself, but only really basic stuff my grandmother taught me. But it must be cool, being bilingual."

"Skylar can speak French too. I've heard her speak it to Jacques before, but only when she gets really mad," Carl filled Robert in.

"English, French, Dutch, anything else," Robert asked, gently pushing my shoulder.

I hated how everyone was looking at me in amazement, like it takes some sort of wizard to learn a language. I also really disliked how everyone's attention was suddenly focused on me instead of it being on Justine. But when I heard Justine's big (not so subtle) sigh, which told me she did not like me being the centre of attention either, I decided to enjoy this while it lasted and even exploit it a bit further.

"Spanish, actually," I boasted.

"Wow, must have been a hell of school you went to, learning all that."

I never went to school. Instead I just stayed home and watched a lot of TV. Satellite TV, best teacher ever.

"Are you sure you don't want any," Robert asked, holding the bag with sweets in front of my face again.

Why did I feel like I was being tricked into something? But unlike Hansel and Gretel who were tricked into eating an abundance of candy so that cannibal witch could eat them, I felt like Robert was tricking me into liking him. I know it sounds strange but that was how it felt like to me. I think the weird feeling of distrust had to do with his shady friend Justine who was throwing me one of her best fake smiles again.

I could have said something about 'no being no', but I knew Robert was just trying to be nice to me.

"Got any lollypops," I asked.

"Yeah, Coco-cola, cherry, strawberry,…"

"Strawberry is fine," I stopped Robert before he summed up his entire collection.

"Thank you," I said to him before ripping the plastic of the candy and putting it in my mouth.

In the corner of my eye I saw Justine whisper in Daryl's ear. I wonder what she was telling him. Daryl however was not intrigued by whatever it was she said to him and looked at me instead. To be more precise he looked at my mouth sucking on the lollypop.

I was wondering if he was thinking about what we did this afternoon. Well, what I did _to _him might be a better way of putting it.

"I'm going to bed too," I said out loud while standing up. Everyone nodded goodnight. But when I looked at Robert I saw something that I could only describe as utter disappointment in me for cutting our conversation short. Because I felt surprisingly guilty for being such an awkward socializer I thanked him in Dutch for the candy and the conversation. "_Dank u voor de lolly en de leuke conversatie."_

"_Graag gedaan_," he replied to me in Dutch with a heavy American accent while giving me a smile.

I turned back around and quickly made my way over to the shed. Something was up with Jacques, I could just feel it.

As I slammed the door of the shed behind me, I saw Jacques turn around in surprise and quickly hide his hands behind his back.

But it was not quickly enough for my wandering eye to see what he was holding.

A fucking beer can.

It all made sense now. His quick exit at the fire tonight. Him trying to distract me by talking about my father. He had done all those things, just so he could have a drink.

"What's that in your hands," I asked as if I did not already knew what he was holding. I was giving him a chance to be honest with me.

"Nothing," he shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head.

"Then show me your hands if it's nothing," I said firmly.

The boy visibly shrank away. He knew I knew he was lying to me.

"Show me what you're hiding behind your back," I exclaimed, losing my patience with him.

Still shaking his head, Jacques moved to one of the corners of the room.

"Montre-moi ce que tu caches," I repeated my command in French.

Jacques stayed immobile as if ignoring I had even asked him a question. I knew this was not going to work if I was yelling at him. "Montre-moi ta main," I asked sweeter this time, "S'il te plaît."

He slowly showed his hands to me, which of course contained a can of beer. I quickly made my move and grabbed it out of his hands.

"Hey, give it back to me," Jacques said while reaching out to me, unintentionally knocking the beer can out of my hand, making it drop hard on the floor. The contents of entire can of beer, which was still surprisingly full, spilled over me.

"Woops, seems like I made you wet again," he whispered as a short chuckle escaped his throat.

"That's really not funny," I yelled while patting my wet clothes. The beer was dripping of my T-shirt.

"Yeah, not funny at all," he just started laughing harder while he slipped and fell down to the floor. Even though it looked like a rather unpleasant fall, Jacques did not seem to experience any pain whatsoever, he was in fact too busy laughing at me.

I put my hands around his waist in order to pull him back to his two feet, but Jacques had to be at least 6 foot 6 so my effort was pretty much pointless. He did not even seem to notice I was trying to lift him off the ground, because instead of trying to help me, Jacques thought this was the perfect moment to smell my hair.

"Mhm," he said inhaling my hair, "Now you smell like me." He was right, I smelled like I had been swimming in a vat of beer, just like him. I was going to have to take a shower if I ever wanted to get rid of this penetrating odour.

"Stop laughing like that, this is serious. How many beers did you have anyway?"

"Five, tops," he stated unashamedly.

"Five?," I exclaimed around the same time I gave up pulling him from the floor. I held out my hand, signalling the number five with all my fingers. "Five?," I repeated, not believing he had been so stupid to drink five beers. Jacques saw me holding out my hand and made a move as if he was trying to high five me. But due to his drunken state, he simply misjudged the distance between us and completely missed my hand.

"Don't high five me, this is serious conversation we're having," I yelled at him, while slapping his hand away. I sat down beside him, feeling tired from trying to lift his dead weight.

"What, five's not a whole lot."

"Yeah, sure. Five beers that's no biggie," I said mockingly, "Where did you find it anyway?"

"On Justine's mattress. I thought she was just fucking with Daryl when she said she had a stock laying on her bed, but oh no, an entire six-pack, ready for the taking," he said while letting out a burp.

"I just don't understand why you would start drinking again. You were doing so well these past few weeks. Why would you just toss it away like that?"

He shrugged his shoulder.

"Is it because of that girl? Justine," I asked. I had noticed he had almost instantaneously taken a liking to her. The entire evening he was demanding her attention and showed clear signs of disappointment on his face when she did not even give him the smallest amount of acknowledgement.

"Maybe, I dunno," he muttered.

"You could have just talked to her instead of trying to be a big man."

"Why do you think I drank all that beer. I can't talk to girls I like when I'm sober. Not with my bright personality," he said cynically.

"Why not? I like you more when you're sober. I mean, you're still a wanker and all that, but at least you're a tad bit nicer."

"You mean that," he asked, looking at my face to see whether or not I might be lying to him.

"Yeah, you're always trying to show off when you're drunk and you can be such an aggressive dick sometimes, it scares me."

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said, sounding tired all of the sudden.

With ease I pushed him down on the floor. "Go to bed, Jacques. You're drunk." I knew it was not ideal, sleeping on the floor, but it was impossible for me to drag him all the way to his mattress on my own. I grabbed his pillow and placed it carefully under his head.

"You want a bedtime story," I asked him while putting his blanket on him and nicely tucking him in.

"Non, maman," he said while yawning.

I untied his boots and put them next to him on the floor.

"Skylar," he asked me softly as if he was not sure I was still there.

"Yes, Jacques."

"Thanks for trying."

"Trying what," I asked him.

"Trying what, Jacques," I asked him again while tugging his leg.

I got a snore in response.

"Always nice having such lucid conversations with you, Jacques," I said sarcastically.

* * *

I had all but thrown my clothes on the ugly orange tiles, not caring for the chaos it created in the shower area. I would deal with my beer-smelling clothes first thing in the morning but I needed to get this smell of my skin fast. The smell reminded me too much of my failed attempt at curing Jacques myself, I now knew I had to ask Hershel for help. Maybe I even had to tell Rick and the rest of the group about Jacques' disease.

I scrubbed my skin hard all while cursing Jacques in every language I knew for getting wasted again. When I finally did not smell the beer anymore, I got out of the shower cubicle, grabbed one of the towels, dried my body off and made a knot to keep the towel to my body. I stopped my movements as soon as I felt a hand tap on my shoulder. I gasped and immediately turned around, ready to make a ninja move. But this intruder clearly had better reflexes than me and grabbed my arm in mid-air, pausing my attempt at hitting him.

"Don't hit me," Daryl hissed at me, tightening his hold on my right arm.

"Daryl, what are you doing here," I asked, trying not to sound too scared.

"You," he stuttered as he heard the fear in my voice and let go of my arm, "I need talk to ya right now."

"Okay," I muttered softly, unable to think of anything else to say.

But instead of talking to me, he started walking around the room, looking down at the orange tiles, completely avoiding my gaze. He looked like one of those zoo animals that had been locked up too long in a cage, moving around without any clear purpose.

He suddenly stopped his movements and took a drink from a beer can which I had not noticed before. I hoped that the beer would provide him some courage to speak his mind but Daryl just cleared his throat and stared at me intensely, not saying anything.

"You have to stop staring at me like that, you're creeping me out," I said, shifting the weight from my left leg to my right.

"Yeah, I don't care about yer feelings. Not since ya've fucked up mine. Ya know what ya did to me?"

I shook my head slightly, not being sure what he is referring to.

"I keep thinkin' about that little stunt ya pulled in the forest this afternoon."

He tried to close the distance between me and him quickly, but tripped over the clothes I had gracefully dropped on the floor minutes before.

"What you did to me –," he grunted, before pausing and tossing the clothes out of his way so he could continue his fast pace towards me, "What you did _for_ me."

As he got closer to me I smelled his liquor filled breath on my face.

"You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying."

"Oh, I know what I'm saying alright," he smirked slightly, "I've been brooding on what to say to you for weeks. Almost two months, I've been thinkin' of ways to try and talk to ya. The fact that my blood is drownin' in alcohol, finally allows me to speak freely. I've been thinkin' about all the things I wanna tell ya. But it always sounds so wrong in my head, I can't figure out what to say to ya. I ain't as well-spoken and smooth like other guys. I ain't good with words. I ain't _him_."

_'Wait, who is 'him'? Who is he talking about?'_

"I watched you tonight, you know," he said, taking another sip from the beer can, "talking to _him_, I bet he says all the right things to ya."

I talked to several guys that evening. Jacques, Robert, Rick, at some point I even talked to T-Dog, so I was a bit confused about who exactly Daryl was ranting about.

"You were smiling, at some point laughing even," he spoke with an angry voice, trying to squeeze the can flat, but failing miserably. I guess the beer had not only gotten the better of his ability to keep his calm but also his physical strength.

I remember that there were several times I laughed while talking to Robert, so I assumed that it was Robert he was talking about. But I did not mean any of it, I just thought if I laughed every time Robert told me a silly anecdote, it would encourage him to talk more about himself and maybe he would stop asking me personal questions.

"It was like you were eating out of his hand," Daryl said, tossing the empty beer can on the floor. Only the sound of the empty can rolling over the floor was filling the room.

"I didn't mean it, any of it. It was all a façade," I said, softly breaking the silence, "I don't like him like that."

He looked at me, then.

"I don't like him like I like you," I slurred. Not sure if it was the tenseness of the entire situation or the fact that I had drank quite a bit of beer myself at the campfire that made me stutter. Both probably.

He stepped closer to me as I walked back until my back met the sink. I suddenly felt like I was trapped.

"You shouldn't touch me," I warned him.

"Why not," Daryl asked, his fingers touching the towel covering my body. He let his hand slowly glide up and down the towel as if it was my skin he was touching.

"Why not, Sky," Daryl asked again, "You scared?"

Yeah, I was scared. Scared, he might regret it.

"No, I'm not scared," I lied.

"Then why do you flinch every time I touch you, Sky?"

_'Fuck, I do that?' _I did not even realize I flinched every time he touched me. But after years of physical abuse I guess it had become second nature to flinch every time someone touched me. Especially if the person touching me was male.

"I don't flinch," I lied again.

"Yeah, ya do," Daryl insisted.

He cupped the back of my neck and slowly ran his thumb over my throat. "Please don't be afraid of me," he whispered.

"I'm not afraid of you. It's just that –," I hesitated.

"What," Daryl asked.

"You'll regret getting involved with me."

"No, I won't regret it. Fuck, Sky, I've been fantasying about ya for weeks now," Daryl admitted.

"Do ya remember the first time we were in here, when I checked yer body for walker bites and scratches?"

I nodded. How could I ever forget that moment? Everything in that moment has been imprinted in my mind, like a tattoo inked on me, never to be removed.

The smell of fresh soap and my blood dripping down my leg. The cold of the air surrounding us as he took my body in completely. The look of pity and the cracking sound of his voice when he had seen my scars. He had seen everything. Well, maybe not _everything_. I was still wearing knickers and a bra, unlike now. Now I was not wearing anything underneath my towel.

"Since then, I've been thinkin' about all the things I wanna do to ya, but cuz ya recoiled from me in the car like that I thought you hated me," he said, his hands slowly snaking up to where the knot that was holding the towel close to my body. He gently untied the knot and removed the fabric that was the only barrier between my naked body and his fully clothed one, leaving me to stand completely naked in front of him, "And then this afternoon when ya caught me," he stopped and inhaled air deeply, looking at my bare flesh.

I made a movement to grab the towel of the ground so I could cover my naked body again.

"No, don't," he said, "I wanna see ya."

Even though it was dark and cold outside, a comforting warm feeling started to spread over my entire body.

"This afternoon when ya caught me jacking off to ya like some pervert, I was sure ya thought I was disgusting or sumthin'. But then ya touched me like that," he said quietly, gently caressing my stomach with his rough fingers like I was some kind of fragile china doll, "No other girl has ever done that to me. Not without wanting sumthin' in return. I just can't figure out what you want from me."

"I want you to stop touching me like that," I said with a voice that failed sounding stern.

"What? Like this," Daryl asked while delicately running the tips of his fingers over my side, tickling the skin near my ribs.

"Yeah, stop doing _that_," I said, looking away hoping he would not notice the blushing of my cheeks or the goosebumps appearing on my body.

"You sure about that," he asked, a small smirk appearing on his face. _'Oh, he noticed, alright'_

"Yes."

"Think you'll change your mind once I kiss ya," Daryl bluntly suggested, staring at me intensely.

"Yeah," I asked with a shaky voice, suddenly feeling not so sure of myself anymore, "You think so?"

"Mhm," Daryl hummed, taking a step closer.

I forced myself to look up from his feet and meet his eyes but he was staring at my mouth. I could not help myself but lick my suddenly dry bottom lip and start biting it. I saw him breath in intensely at the sight of my tongue.

When his eyes finally did meet mine, they were filled with both desire and intoxication.

_'We shouldn't do this, he's drunk,_' my mind reasoned. But just as I was about to say something, he grabbed the back of my neck and captured my mouth in a hard kiss. I opened my mouth to protest, but he sneaked in his tongue and thrust it between my lips, swallowing every form of objection that I could think of in his mouth.

I hesitated at first but then kissed him back fiercely. I laid my hand on his chest and let the tips of my fingers slowly graze his stomach until my hand reached the front side of his jeans, feeling his undeniable arousal. His sudden groan in my mouth made me stop what I was doing, thinking that losing control like that could lead to something I was not ready for yet.

I rested my forehead against his as we both panted harshly into each other's faces.

"Mm, you taste like strawberry," he said softly while licking his lips, "Makes me wonder what ya taste like down there," he whispered, while placing his hands between my legs, touching the curls of the still shower-damp hair between my legs.

"Daryl, I'm not sure –," I whispered against his lips. But the mere mention of his name was all the encouragement he needed to kiss me again. It felt even more needy and desperate than before. I pushed my head to the side so he could kiss my neck, his tongue scratched along my jaw line before he gently sucked on my earlobe.

"Sky, it's gonna feel good, I promise," his rough voice sweetly said in my ear.

"You want this," Daryl asked, pushing me against his groan while looking me in the eyes. I could feel his erection through his jeans and without thinking, I rubbed myself against him eagerly.

"I want you," I replied softly. I was not sure I wanted _this_, but I knew I wanted _him._

"Why you acting like you've never been touched before," he asked.

"Because I haven't. Not the way you're touching me right now anyway." It was true, I have had sex before but it never started out like this. The sex I had in the past, had always been violent or abusive, I was treated like I was an object, rather than an actual person. But Daryl was constantly touching me like I was something precious.

Daryl softly cupped my cheek before lowering his lips on mine again. I put my arms around his neck, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He pushed my back completely against the wall behind me, causing my head to come in contact with the mirror. He stopped, murmuring a quick 'sorry' before a small smile made his lips curl. The smile disappeared however as soon as he looked in the mirror and saw the reflection of my scars on my back.

"Don't look at them," I said, referring to my scars. His confused gaze met mine. I knew he did not understand what I said about him being the first man to touch me so gently. I saw a moment of doubt cross his eyes. I wanted to bring him to where he was before.

"Kiss me again," I said softly before pressing an open-mouth kiss to his parted lips. I could still feel he was doubtful about this, so I leaned forward and pressed my breasts against his chest.

"Touch me again, Daryl," I begged him. He inhaled sharply and allowed me to push my tongue in his mouth. He finally touched my breasts with his warm calloused hands. When his tongue came into my mouth I moaned and rubbed myself against his groin. He grabbed my bare ass and after giving it a squeeze, he lifted me off the sink. He kept kissing me before gently laying me down on the cold floor.

As he hovered above me, it suddenly hit me how strong and muscled Daryl was and how easily he could control me.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered to me, sensing my sudden fear. That statement made me think back to the first time we met, how I was tied to a chair and he tried to comfort me. Even back then, I already knew he would never harm me and I already trusted him completely.

"I know you won't," I said while sliding my arm up and down his well-formed biceps.

He kissed me again and alternated between cupping my breasts and running his fingers up and down my stomach, until I was moaning and moving impatiently against him. I felt something I had never felt before. I felt want and desire and need all at once. I could no longer feel the coldness of the stone tiles as a warmth start to spread all over my body. His touches distracted me so much that I did not even realize he was going down on me.

"We won't go all the way, okay," he whispered against my flat stomach, "I'm just gonna return the favour."

I just nodded my head, not really being able to do or say anything else.

He kissed the inside of my thigh delicately, making an encouraging moan escape my lips. As a sudden wave of pleasure went through me and an unknown force lifted my hips up.

"Easy there, girl," I heard his rough voice say, while his hands locked themselves onto my thighs and tried to hold me down, "I haven't even really touched youyet," he said while grinning.

He leaned over me and placed a sweet kiss on my hipbone. He parted my legs with his shoulder and positioned himself flat on his stomach between my legs, his face close to my centre.

At the first contact of his tongue against my clit I twitched wildly and covered my eyes with my arms, not believing Daryl was actually doing this to me.

"Look at me, Sky," he demanded while continuing to kiss me _down there._ He was driving me insane by licking my clit with slow strokes. I opened my legs more to give him better access. A long sigh escaped my lips.

"Look. At. Me," he repeated his command to me, word for word. This time I did as he asked of me and watched how his eyes twinkled as he licked vigorously at me. He slid his hands under me and cupped my bum, lifting me up so he could have better access. He put his tongue even deeper in me and started licking rougher than before, making me buck my hips again.

"Do ya like that," he murmured with a deep voice.

"Daryl," I whined while biting my lip, desperately trying to contain any screams inside of me.

"Gotta make her feel good, gotta make her wanna come to me again" Daryl whispered more to himself than to me, before licking at me again. I closed my eyes as I tried to grab at anything to release the sudden tension that had started building in my arms. The only thing in reach however was Daryl's head between my legs, so I grabbed and tugged at his hair. I must have hurt him, but he did not complain, he even seem to like my reaction to him and increased the speed of his tongue on my centre.

"Keep your eyes on me," he commanded, "I wanna see ya when I make ya cum."

A wave of ultimate pleasure hit home, making me cry out in some language I did not even know which one it was while arching my back of the ground. I was panting harshly, my body shuddered and shook like I had just ran a marathon.

He slowly climbed back up my body, so his blue eyes could meet my green ones again. A big grin spread across his face as he saw the result of what he had done to me. He kissed my neck fiercely, murmuring something that sounded like 'mine'. But I could not be sure because it was impossible for me to think straight while feeling high from what Daryl's touches had done to me.

I could however hear the sound of his belt coming off and his zipper opening up. I guess he changed his mind about 'not going all the way'. I knew I would have let him, especially after what he had done for me. I would have let him, had it not been for the sound of the door opening and someone walking in.

"Someone has come in," my panicked voice whispered in his ear.

* * *

**_A/N:_**

**So who do you think enter the brick building and disturbed Sky and Daryl's private moment? Who do you want it to be? It can be literaly anyone: Rick, Jacques, Carol, Lori, T-Dog, Justine, Robert, Glenn,... **

I've not yet written the rest and I am open for suggestions... so leave a comment down below, telling me who you think it should be.

Already a big thank you to velvetemr73, Aceshinjashu, a mysery guest, Demi187, CutieZofia, middlekertz, Katie Loom and Adriana for leaving comment/reviews on this story.

middlekertz: to be honest with you I haven't figured out yet why I titled the story 'do not read this', so it pretty normal that you don't understand why it is called that way. I do however have an idea, but I'm still have to write quite a few chapters to get to that point. So keep following the story and you'll find out ;)

**I also wanted to ask you guys what you would think of a chapter written in Daryl's POV? Would that be cool?**


	16. Fear

**CHAPTER 16: THE FEAR**

* * *

I am not scared.

I do not fear narrow pathways at dazzling heights without a railing to hold on to. You can put me on an airplane flying through a storm and I will not freak out. I give big and hairy spiders the one finger salute. If biting walkers chase me down, I turn around and start fighting them without thinking twice.

I am not scared. At least not of things for which it is normal to have fear.

But I'll admit it, I have irrational fears. I am scared of spaces I can't escape easily, scared of exotic food, scared of being the centre of attention, scared of driving, scared that less intelligent people will infect me with their ignorance if I look at them, scared of buses that are too crowded, scared of being on a stage, scared people will find out I can't read nor write, scared of SO much worse things I do not even have the guts to tell you.

But most of all, I am scared to lose control. Because losing control, doing impulsive things, being spontaneous in my case always leads to one thing.

Failure.

And I could have sworn that before I met him I had everything under control. Before I met him I was content with just being on my own.

Seriously, when I worked as a bartender I had guys come up to me and ask me out all the time. I never kindly accepted their offers but always declined them rather harshly. I would lie and make up excuses like 'I already have a boyfriend', 'I am gay', or 'I am pregnant'. I remember that one time I even told some guy that kept coming on to me I had chlamydia so he would just leave me alone. That guy was Jacques, by the way. He had a good laugh, pretended to know I was just joking around but after that day he never tried to hit on me again.

I always turned guys down because none of them seemed worth the risk of failure. And if you never take a risk, you're not going to fail, right?

Asexual. Ashamed. A victim. Traumatized. Damaged. Scarred. Scared. According to my therapists those are just a couple of reasons why I avoid men. Some of these experts said I was love-shy, others called me androphobic, which is being afraid of men. But that doesn't make any sense because men in general never scared me, it's what one man in particular did to me over ten years ago that scares me.

What a man could do to me, scares me. What Daryl could do to me, scares me.

There I said it. Daryl scares me. I know it's a stupid irrational fear and I know he would never intentionally harm me, but I just can't shake this weird feeling I have.

Before running into him, I was sure that giving in to what I want would always lead to failure and disappointment. So I told myself that I was perfectly happy with solitude. That it was better to keep a comfortable distance and not let people come too close.

I convinced myself that I liked who I was, on my own.

But of course I didn't like who I was. The money I earned from my dead-end job I spend paying the rent of a shit-apartment and a bunch of therapists because I didn't have friends I could talk to. I knew that was my fault. I never played well with others. I didn't do relationships, whether they were friendly, romantically or sexually. I didn't do 'we' nor 'us'.

But that was before I was introduced to this group, before I ran into him. He makes me feel all these things. These warm, intense things. I do not even know what to call it.

Desire, need, want, crush, love?

Whatever it was, it somehow led me to laying here, on a bathroom floor, naked underneath him. His scruffy beard was scraping my neck as he kissed me there. His hands were everywhere as I was panting heavily, coming down from my high.

I knew that giving in to what I want would eventually get me into trouble. And now I could hear the wooden door of the building creaking as it opened and closed. Someone was in here.

"Someone has come in," my panicked voice whispered in his ear.

Daryl, being also aware that someone had entered the building, covered my mouth with his hand.

"Shh, keep quiet, might not notice us."

From behind the lockers two figures appeared. It wasn't until I blinked my eyes and slightly lifted my head up I could take a peek at the intruders. Both Rick and Robert were gazing at us with an open-mouth.

"Daryl," Rick stuttered in a very upset and shocked manner. He immediately turned his back towards us, knowing very well what Daryl and I had been doing.

I shivered as I felt a feeling of guilt wash over me.

"Justine," Robert asked. It was weird but Robert did not sound surprised at all. He just sounded annoyed.

"No, Skylar actually," I replied rather laconically.

I guess the man's eyesight was not yet adapted to the darkness of the room so he thought I was someone else.

"Oh, shit. What are you doing in here," Robert asked, finally turning away from us.

"Shouldn't we be the ones asking you that question," Daryl said. By the clenching of his teeth I could tell he was having difficulties controlling his anger.

"We were looking for Rose. We lost her. We thought we saw her running in here," Robert said.

"Ya might wanna think again, no one is in here but us two," Daryl grunted.

"Skylar, honey, could you please get decent again," Rick spoke up, still turned away from Daryl and me.

Even though, I knew Daryl's body covered mine completely I felt very exposed at that moment. I hate how Rick used that word 'decent', like he was implying Daryl and I had been doing something indecent. It made me feel filthy to that extent that I wanted to take a shower again to clean myself off.

Daryl slowly stood up and zipped his trousers back up. After which he helped me get up from the ground and started collecting my clothes which were still spread all over the ground.

I just stood there covering my breasts with my right hand and my middle section with the other while I waited for Daryl to hand me all my clothes.

Daryl also turned around so I could get dressed. I was now staring at the backs of three men while putting my clothes back on quickly as I could. After I was done Daryl turned back around to face me.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, almost stuttered even.

_Why is he apologizing to me?_

"Told you you'd regret it," I simply replied.

"That's not what I –"

"Are you decent now," Rick interrupted our silent conversation with his question.

I managed to mutter out a short 'yes', and thus signalling Rick and Robert it was okay to turn back around.

No one said anything for a while. I avoided Rick's gaze by looking at the floor, trying to remember what part of me thought it was a good idea to have sex on the orange tiles in the first place.

When I finally decided to own up to my misbehaviour, I looked up into Rick's eyes. Quickly realizing my mistake I looked back to the ground. I had seen a lot of different emotions displayed in his eyes. There was anger and some confusion. But worst of all he looked disappointed in me.

Given that Robert barely knows me, I didn't care what he thought of me. But Rick… that was an entire different story. What Rick thought of me, was important. I don't know when it had exactly happened but we seemed to have formed this bond. Maybe during all those watches we spend together, maybe after the first time he trusted me to be alone with his son.

I don't know when the situation had changed between us, but I just knew it had. And now there was no denying that Rick's opinion mattered to me. Seeing his judging look made me feel dirty and ashamed.

"Can I have a word with you," Rick asked Daryl. He made it sound like a question, but he did not really ask Daryl. It was more of a command than an actual request.

Rick's order seemed to have a sobering effect on Daryl, who was only able to nod.

"Skylar, go to bed," Rick said while motioning me to go away.

Feeling dismissed like a little girl by her father, I did not hesitate to leave Daryl with the ordeal of Rick's anger. I knew I was being a coward but I was just happy to leave because he looked really mad. I also knew that tomorrow would be my turn, this was just a postponement.

I walked back to the shed with the full intention to get some rest, but Robert unfortunately decided it was a good idea to escort me back. I knew he was going to start asking me questions.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him open his mouth as if to say something.

"Don't you dare say a fucking thing," I quickly commanded, hoping my angry voice would be enough to keep him from saying something stupid.

"So he didn't –, you know," Robert asked hesitantly.

"He didn't what," I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was asking me.

I knew what the situation had looked like. Me laying on the floor, naked under Daryl, still fully-clothed but his trousers undone, his hands covering my mouth. "If you can't even pronounce the word 'rape', it might be a wise decision not to accuse others of it."

"But no, he didn't. And I didn't rape him either, if that was going to be your next question," I said sarcastically, "It was with mutual consent. Is that so fucking hard to believe?"

"It's just that you don't seem like the type of girl who would, you know, give it away on a bathroom floor," he bluntly said.

That statement reminded me of Robert's annoyed tone when he thought it was Justine laying under Daryl. Like he was thinking 'oh, here we go again'. Did he think Justine was that type of girl?

"I didn't know there was a type for that. Besides I don't think you know me that well that you can just define what type of girl I am," I said firmly, crossing my arms as if to form a defensive shield, "we met like 7 hours ago."

"I'm sorry, I just –," Robert cut his sentence short and looked over in the distance.

Interested in what had caught his attention, I turned around. T-Dog was running towards us at a remarkable fast speed, but I could tell he was having difficulties keeping up his fast pace due to all the guns he was holding.

"What the fuck," I murmured, unsure of what exactly was going on.

"Skylar, Robert, you guys know how to shoot a gun," T-Dog asked, sounding completely out of breath.

"Yes," Robert and I responded simultaneously.

"Pick one, we got walkers coming," he said quickly.

"What? How many," I asked. I knew the number was going to be high because otherwise we would use something quieter than gunfire.

"I dunno. Looked like about fifty, could be more," he said.

"_Godverdomme_," I cursed in Dutch.

"Yeah, that word might cut it," Robert commented.

I saw Robert grab the AK47 Daryl and I picked up at the supermarket. I preferred using the Glock. Small and precise.

"Just one gun," I asked, holding out the small gun I had picked.

"Fine, you can pick another one. But do it quickly."

"Give me the sniper rifle."

"It's dark so be careful. Only shoot when you're sure it's a walker," T-Dog commanded while handing me the rifle and some ammo, "We can't have another Andrea-situation," he sighed before running towards the shower building where Rick and Daryl were.

Robert looked at me questionably, asking me silently who Andrea was. I shrugged my shoulder in response. I had no idea what or rather who T-Dog was talking about.

I figured it did not matter. I got the message: don't shoot people who are still breathing. I hung the sniper rifle on my back and started moving out. I could not stay on the playground. It would be swamped with walkers soon.

"Where are you going," Robert asked.

"Roof," I simply responded.

"Well, good luck to you then," Robert said, still sounding a bit upset about our argument.

"Yeah you too," I mumbled.

I knew he did not like me leaving him alone like that. But we both knew we were likely to hit more targets if we spread out. Furthermore, being on the roof of the school would give me the perfect outlook on the environment surrounding me.

I ran up the fire escape which was two stories high. By the time I arrived up on the roof, the shooting had already begun. I quickly took the sniper rifle of my back, put out its bi-pod and laid down on my stomach at the edge of the building. As soon as I saw the first walker in my scope, I pulled the trigger. But to my surprise nothing happened and the walker continued lumbering its way over the playground.

"Are you shitting me," I muttered angrily.

There was an empty magazine in the chamber of the rifle. Sure, I should have checked it first before trying to shoot a walker down. But the gun should have been loaded in the first place.

"Bunch of amateurs," I mumbled in frustration.

This mistake made me realize how unprepared we were for this. During this past winter we hadn't encountered any big herds of walkers. It was like Daryl had said, they seemed to be in some sort of hibernation. But they were definitely awake now, roaming over our playground.

I tried to put the five rounds in the magazine as quickly as I could, knowing very well I was losing precious time. After I was done filling it up, I took the magazine and forced it into the gun until I heard a metal click.

All I could say was thank god there was a full moon and a clear sky, because otherwise I would not have been able to see a thing. I shot about 18 walkers. Well, not 'about', I know I shot precisely 18 walkers because due to the small magazine I had to reload my gun every five fucking times I shot. I only missed two times. So I have to say, Jacques taught me well.

Already after the first shot an annoying ringing settled itself in my ear, making it hard for me to focus. But now that the gunfire had ceased, my ears heard a different sound. A crying sound.

I could hear someone begging 'to do something' but I couldn't see who it was or whom the person was pleading to.

Sensing a sudden need to help this person, I quickly made my way over to the fire escape and ran down the stairs. By the time I got safely back on the concrete playground, a group of people had gathered around the person asking for help, but no one was helping him. As a matter of fact no one was doing anything. They all just stood there, blocking my vision, making it impossible for me to see who was laying on the ground begging for someone to ends his suffering. By the depth of his voice, I knew it was a man.

The sound of a revolver going off, put an abrupt end to the man's crying out. Once again a ringing sound found its way into my ears, only this time it echoed through my entire being.

* * *

**Next**: you'll find out who died and what consequences this unexpected deah will bring to the group. And you'll find out what happened in Skylar's past that makes her so afraid.

* * *

**A/N**: Hello! Wow your responses on the last chapter were overwhelming.

There were two people suggesting who the intruder could be. Obviously it couldn't be Jacques, because he passed out on the floor.

I think it was MannixMind who suggested Robert and TheLostGirl15 who said it should be Rick. And because I'm a people-pleaser and I couldn't pick between the two options I just did both of them =)

I got two questions for you guys:

**1. So, who do you think died? Even though, I've already figured out who's dying, I would still love to hear you guys' guesses. I already gave you a tip, the person dying is male.**

**2. From the beginning of this story I've been giving some subtle hints that Skylar is an illiterate person. I was just wondering if you guys picked that up yet or was I being too subtle. **

fbg67: oh, thank you :) that's a huge compliment coming from a native speaker. I've to say I'm very much in love with the English language. And when you're passionate about something it's much easier to learn it.

InfiniteAndMortal: yeah, procrastination works both ways, I'm afraid. I had to do a French task for college today, but I didn't because this was so much more interesting and allows me to be creative.

ItMustBeEpic: Jeeeuj! A fellow native Dutch speaker! Virtual high-five! :p

It's now half past 1 in the morning, so if there are some mistakes in this chapter, my apologies. I had full intentions to respond to every review, but I'm sleepy so I'm going to go to bed.

Good night and thanks for reading!


	17. Blame

**A/N: **Maybe I should give some further explanation about the previous chapter.

This story is written is a single first person narrative. That's the theoretical way of saying that everything you see and experience will be because of Skylar's views on certain situations and on the people she meets. This means that everything written in this story is very subjective. It's an important task for the readers (you guys) to determine as much as possible about Skylar's character in order to decide what "really" happens in the story.

For instance, in the previous chapter I wrote down that Rick looked disappointed in Skylar when he caught Daryl and her in the bathroom.

Of course, Rick wasn't really disappointed in her behaviour. But Skylar projects her own feelings. Because she is a rape victim, she feels dirty and guilty about what she did. Hence, _"When I finally decided to own up to my misbehaviour, I looked up into Rick's eyes."_

And who knows, Justine might actual be a nice person (not likely but still) , but Skylar doesn't bother getting to know her. Of course, we can't decided yet wheter or not Justine is a nice girl, because Skylar hasn't had a conversation with her that lasted longer than two minutes.

Now we're done with this psychoanalysis, let's continue this story!

* * *

**CHAPTER 17: BLAME**

* * *

I felt like shit. After all the walking dead had been shot or beaten in the head, I had been digging a grave on my own for the rest of the night. I had muddy hands and dirty trousers to show for it. And now I was, just like everybody else, waiting for Rick to say something. He had gathered us around on the playground on an empty spot where there weren't walker's bodies. I don't know how many of them were laying spread out on the playground, but I can definitely tell you that 'fifty' had been a serious underestimation on T-Dog's part.

Near the swing I could see Carl move bodies on a pile. How could he still have the energy to do that? How could he still bother to clean up this mess? That boy should be in school right now instead of being on a playground cleaning up a massacre of the undead.

_Everything is so wrong._

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to enjoy the warmth of the spring sun on my face. I hoped that taking away my ability to see, would also take with it the disgusting image of a dying world. But I knew I had been too optimistic as I smelled the odour of bodies rotting. Taking one sense away, just heightens all the others. You couldn't escape this hell just by closing your eyes.

A cough made me fultter my eyes open again and brought my attention to Rick. I could tell losing a member of the group was particularly hard for him. His face bathed in one emotion and one emotion only. Pure misery.

"Two children," Rick began, pointing with his right hand to Beth and Carl in the distance while his left hand seemed to be wanting to rub out a frown on his forehead, "a pregnant woman," Rick said, motioning in Lori's direction.

_Lori's pregnant? How come I didn't know that? Why didn't Rick tell me this? Sure, this pregnancy isn't ideal, but still I would expect that a father like Rick to be proud of his second child on the way._

"Two people having sex while they should be on watch," he said harshly while pointing at Glenn and Maggie.

_Glenn and Maggie are a couple? Why doesn't anybody tell me these things?_

"A girl who can't shoot a gun," Rick said motioning at Justine, "My best shooting man drunk," Rick said in Daryl's face.

"A boy sitting safe in a shed not even bothering coming out," he pointed at Jacques.

Jacques turned to face me, silently asking me if it was his fault one of our own had died. I took his hand in my muddy one and squeezed it tightly. It wasn't fair of Rick to point at people and blame them for what happened. I understood Rick's frustration and I knew that this entire situation could have been dealt with differently but still it wasn't fair. This wasn't anyone's fault, it just happened.

Daryl's face was definitely a couple of shades paler than a minute before. I wasn't sure if that was because of how Rick had put him on the spot in front of the group like that or due to the sight of me and Jacques holding hands.

"A good man died yesterday and it could've been avoided. Hell, if it hadn't been for Robert, T-Dog, Skylar, Carl and myself, the casualties would be much higher. If it hadn't been for Hershel's sacrifice, _I_ would be dead," Rick yelled, pointing at himself this time.

_Great, now he's blaming himself._

"Not only did we lose a good friend and father but also a good doctor. How is my wife supposed to give birth to a child safely now," Rick asked his rhetorical question.

"Huh? Who's going to cut into Lori's stomach when the baby is stuck," I could tell by the tone of his voice he was starting to panic, "I know I sure as hell can't do it."

In the corner of my eye I saw Lori give a comforting pat to Carl, who had joined our little meeting.

"How far along are you," I asked Lori.

"Four and a half months," Rick responded for her.

_Seriously? Four and a half months? Shouldn't she have a little baby bump by now or something? _

"That still gives us four and half months to prepare, right," I quickly calculated in my head.

"What if it's premature," Rick asked.

"Then we still have a couple of weeks. There's no use in freaking out right now. It's not doing the group any good and it's not doing your future child any good either," I said, pointing at Lori's surprisingly still flat stomach.

"Plus, the library of this school has tons of books, I'm sure at least one will be about pregnancies," I reasoned.

_Not that I can read any of them, but still… other people could do it. _

"Hershel taught me how to stitch," Carol spoke up.

"Daddy taught me too," Beth said.

I raised my hands as if to say 'tadaa'.

"Sure, under the current circumstances it isn't ideal to give birth to a child. But I'm sure we'll be ready by the time the baby wants to come out. And who knows, we might be lucky and run into a gynaecologist, midwife, nurse or someone else of medical profession," I continued, "And I'm sorry, I don't want to make Lori feel like she isn't a priority, but I believe we have more urgent things to deal with."

"We need more ammo and we might have to consider going somewhere more sheltered. We clearly weren't prepared for this walker parade to barge in," I concluded.

Everybody nodded, not very convincingly but still they had to admit there was something right in my reasoning.

"Wait, we can't leave before we've found my grandmother," Robert spoke up.

"Daryl…," Rick merely said.

"I'm on it," Daryl nodded before turning around and walking away from us.

"Skylar's right, something has to change," Rick said softly.

"So what do we do then," T-Dog asked.

"We can't just leave right now, we still have to bury Hershel and wait for Daryl to return with Rose," Glenn said.

Feeling bombarded with questions, Rick let out a deep sigh. "We bury him first," motioning at Hershel's body covered in my blanket, "then everyone that feels up to it, can try to do something useful and we will resume this talk in the afternoon, after we had some time to let everything sink in."

As everyone got up and moved towards to hole I had dug for Hershel, I dragged Jacques towards our shed. Once inside, I started to toss random things around.

"What the fuck are you doing," a bad-tempered Jacques asked me.

"It was a six-pack you stole from Justine, right?"

He nodded.

"But yesterday you told me you had only drunk five beers, so there must be another one laying around here somewhere," I said while continuing to search for the lost can.

"Trouvé," I said when I found it laying underneath his pillow.

I handed him the last beer which he immediately opened and drank eagerly. I knew he needed it desperately. But I also knew something had to change.

"We can't do this on our own anymore," I sighed as I shook my head.

"I know, but who're we going to ask for help? Hershel's dead. We can't go tell Rick now, he already has enough on his hands," Jacques said while taking another sip of the beer. He was still biting his thumbnail but already seemed less anxious now that he was holding his beloved beer again.

"Maybe we could ask Daryl –"

"Hell no," he interrupted me, "Why would I ask him for help?"

"Remember the first day when we went on that supply trip to get clothes?"

Jacques nodded.

"Back then, Daryl mentioned he had a brother who was an addict."

"Did he? I don't remember that."

"Well, he didn't directly say it but he sort of implied it. Maybe he knows how to deal with this entire situation."

Jacques just laughed my suggestion off and shook his head. "He's not going to help me."

"Maybe if I ask him nicely, -"

"He's not going to want to help me because he hates my guts," Jacques interrupted me.

"Sure, he dislikes you but I don't think he hates you."

"He tried to hit me yesterday."

"What? When?"

"When I was stealing Justine's six-pack on her mattress, Daryl came up from behind me all of the sudden. That guy is like a ninja by the way, I really did not hear him coming," I nodded, knowing exactly what Jacques meant. I did not even see Daryl leave the campfire yesterday evening. That man truly could be as quiet as a mouse and as sneaky as a fox.

"I told him to stay from away you. I said you weren't interested in a socially stupid person like him and that you were mine," Jacques bluntly continued, like that was a normal thing to say.

"You didn't," I raised my voice, not believing Jacques could have really done something that stupid.

"Yeah, and then that drunk redneck tries to hit me. Can you believe it?"

Realization kicked in as I replayed Daryl's word from last night in my head.

_ 'I ain't good with words. I ain't him.'_

_ 'I watched you tonight, you know, talking to him, I bet he says all the right things to ya.'_

_ 'It was like you were eating out of his hand.'_

Daryl had not been talking about Robert, but about Jacques. How could I have missed that? Now I understood the face of disgust he made earlier, when I held Jacques' hands during Rick's rant.

"I don't understand why you would say I'm your girlfriend," I said angrily, "You're not in love with me, are you?"

"Oh god no. I mean, I like you in all your weirdness, but the thought of kissing you,…."

"Ieuw," I said, shaking my head as if I could shake the mental picture out of my mind, "That's disgusting. I think that I just threw up in my mouth."

"Hey, don't push it. These lips are pure magic," he said while pouting his lips. Him making that duckface was the first time I had laughed since yesterday. I could never stay long mad at Jacques, he just always seemed to have this way of distracting me from a serious argument we were having.

"Sorry, it's just that you're like a brother to me, Jacques."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. You're like a sister to me, nothing more, nothing less."

"But definitely nothing more," I wanted to emphasise that part.

"Definitely," he nodded vigorously.

Jacques looked at me with his arms wide open, signalling me to come closer.

"What are you doing," I asked him.

"Wanna have a sentimental hug to establish our new found relationship?"

"Fuck no," I quickly replied. I might consider Jacques a brother, but that doesn't mean I want to get all touchy-feely and shit.

"That's what I thought," he said while closing his arms again.

"I'm still mad at you for what you told Daryl."

"I've seen the way he looks at you. And I really don't like it. And that little nickname he has for you 'Sky'? What are you? His pet," Jacques said mockingly, pronouncing 'Sky' with a southern accent.

"That doesn't give you the right to lie about what sort of relationship we have. You're provoking him. Some day you're going to say something stupid like that, and Daryl won't be drunk and Rick and T-Dog won't be there to pull him back. You need to start thinking before you act, Jacques."

"I'm just trying to protect you, that's all," he said, stepping closer to me.

"Protect me from what exactly?"

"Skylar," he sighed while tugging a couple of hairs that were hanging in front of my eyes, behind my ear so he could take a better look at me.

"Daryl is only going to break your heart," he said, pronouncing every word very carefully as if to make sure I would understand him perfectly.

I stared back into his brown eyes, not understanding at all why he was saying this nonsense.

"What makes you say I won't break his?"

Jacques started laughing at me. "Break Daryl Dixon's heart. You can't possibly be that naïve, can you?"

I shrugged my shoulders, not really knowing what to say.

"In exactly how many relationships have you been after your father was locked in jail?"

I shrugged my shoulders again while looking at a bee hitting the glass of the window again and again, thinking there was a way out.

"Let me rephrase the question, Skylar," he grabbed both my shoulders with his hands so my attention would be focused on him again.

I knew what was coming for me. Jacques was going to say something that sounded like utter nonsense at the beginning of this discussion and at the end of it he would sound like the wisest man in the world. Needless to say, I did not like the Smarter-Than-You look on his face.

"In how many _sexual _relationships have you been?"

I shook my head, not wanting to discuss this topic with him or anybody else.

"Did you have sex at least once in the years after your father's arrest? Did you even try?"

"What does sex got to do with anything?"

"Skylar, you know I know what your father did to you. No man should ever touch his daughter that way," he said while playing with my hair.

"But sweetie," Jacques whispered to me, lifting my chin up, "Daryl is a man and you know what men want, don't you? You of all people should know what men want."

"It doesn't always have to be about sex, you know," I said weakly.

I pulled my chin out of his grasp to show Jacques I did not agree with him and I did not like being spoken to as a child. But as my eyes start to fill themselves with tears, I realized how stupid my perseverance was, because deep down I knew that Jacques was making a valid point.

"But I want him," my voice cracked as teardrops wetted my cheeks. I knew I sounded like a spoiled child wanting the toy on the top shelf instead of the one on the bottom, but I wanted Daryl. Plain and simple, "He's the only thing I ever wanted," I said in a barely audible whisper.

"Shh," Jacques whispered soothingly, "I know and I just want you to be happy. But you're not going to be happy with Daryl."

Jacques brushed a couple of tears off my cheeks. His hands, which were fiercely holding me before, loosened their grip and patted my shoulders comfortingly.

"Let's say you get together with him. He's going to be patient and wait for you to be ready. But Skylar, honey, how long ago was it again that your father was arrested?

"Ten years," I muttered.

"A decade," he stated.

Even though, I knew that a decade and ten years are the exact same amount of time. There was something weird about that word 'decade', like it had this connotation of making what happened to me sound like a historic event in the past. It made everything sound so long ago, even though it didn't feel like that to me.

"And you haven't tried to have sex once since," he said.

I slowly shook my head, giving him a silent confirmation of what he already knew. Apart from what happened yesterday, sex had always been the last thing on my mind.

"What do you think is going to happen when Daryl realizes you're not going to give it up to him? He's going to keep you for company? He's going to keep you to chit-chat? We both know Daryl isn't the type of guy who likes to chit-chat," Jacques said with a mocking tone to his voice.

"He's going to find someone else who's going to give it to him. And break your heart by doing so."

"No, Daryl wouldn't," I said in a final attempt to object Jacques' statements about Daryl.

"Okay, let's say he won't. The redneck is going to be the perfect gentleman and won't cheat on you even though, you don't want to have sex. Are you really going to be able to live with the knowledge that you're denying him what every man wants most?"

As I shook my head I felt every form of objection to Jacques' reasoning leave my body. It was useless to protest against him. I knew he was right. He knew I would feel guilty about not giving in to Daryl's wishes.

"Face it, Skylar. I know you better than anyone else. All these people here, Rick, Daryl, that short-haired woman –"

"Carol. Her name is Carol."

"Yeah, all those people don't know anything about you and me."

Jacques apparently did not know anything about them either if after two months together he still could not bother to remember their names.

"Let me hear you say it."

I looked at him in a confused manner, not knowing what he was referring to.

"Our old mantra," Jacques said.

Oh yes, our old mantra. A habit we had started to take on when the apocalypse began.

A couple of months back we ran into a group of survivors. Jacques immediately distrusted the guys in the group so we made a deal to be pretend boyfriend and girlfriend just so the men wouldn't try anything. I thought Jacques was being paranoid at first, but after a few days with the group I noticed how some of the guys looked at me. Apparently two of them either doubted our credibility as a couple or simply didn't care I was with somebody else because they dragged me out of my tent one night and started groping me. Luckily, Jacques had heard my muffled scream and came to my rescue. He killed those two men with his bare hands just to protect me. Afterwards we immediately packed our shit together and left before the rest of the group would find out he killed two of their members. After that night we had sworn to each other, we wouldn't let other people in again, that it would be just the two of us.

It was after the killings that Jacques' drinking problem really took off. He would get loud nightmares at night which attracted walkers so he would drink to sleep more quietly. That's what he told me, anyway. But I knew that he was also drinking to forget what he did to those men.

I realized very well what Jacques had done to protect me and I was sure if required, he would do it again without thinking twice.

"Who do we distrust," he asked me, nodding encouragingly at me to finish our little chant.

"Everyone who isn't us," I replied automatically.


	18. The night before

A/N:

Tonight's chapter has been brought to you by coffee. Lots of it. ;D

So you may or may not have noticed that I haven't uploaded in a while…. I've been thinking about all sorts of excuses that could explain my lack of writing. I could use the cliché 'my dog ate my homework', but given that I don't have a dog and I don't write this on paper, I just realized that using an imaginary dog as a culprit is rather pathetic.

But on a more serious note though, college has been kicking my ass this trimester and will continue to do so until the end of the academic year. I know it's a weak excuse, but it's the only one I got. So take it or leave it …

**Just a little recap containing information, vital to understand the next chapter:**

*** Daryl and Skylar had an 'encounter' in the shower area which was interrupted by both Rick and Robert.**

*** The group was attacked by walkers.**

*** Hershel died.**

*** Rick sort of got pissed at everyone for not protecting the weaker links in the group.**

*** Rose (Robert's grandmother) is still missing, but Daryl went to look for her.**

*** In the previous chapter it was revealed that at the beginning of the apocalypse Jacques killed two men trying to grope Skylar.**

*** Skylar declared Jacques to be her 'brother from another mother'.**

*** Jacques sort of abused this new-found sibling love to manipulate Skylar into thinking she and Daryl will never be happy together.**

*** Oh, and Jacques got drunk again. Obviously.**

Because it has been such a long time since I've updated, I thought it might be a good idea to pick up where we left off.

* * *

**CHAPTER 18: THE NIGHT BEFORE**

* * *

"Who do we distrust," he asked me, nodding encouragingly at me to finish our little chant.

"Everyone who isn't us," I replied automatically.

"Good girl," Jacques smiled approvingly while brushing my hair back. I liked how he was at that moment. His touches, caring and compassionate. The look in his eyes, calm and composed.

I should have known that this moment of peace was just temporary. The look of contentment vanished as a big frown appeared on his forehead.

"What's that," Jacques asked, his eyes zooming in on a spot on my neck.

"What's what," I asked, not in any way knowing what exactly he was referring to.

His fingers which had been gently holding my arm before tightened as he dragged me towards the only mirror in the shed.

"What's THAT," he yelled as he pointed at a couple of small blood vessels that were burst under the skin of my neck.

_'Oh, shit'_

"Is that a hickey," Jacques asked accusingly.

"No, it …," I stammered as I stared at my own reflection, looking at the mark Daryl had left on my neck last night, "… it's just a bruise," I managed to let out.

In the mirror I could see how unconvincing the lie was that had just left my lips. The reflection in front of me showed a girl blushing excessively as the distant memory of what happened the night before returned to her mind. She shook her head vigorously and covered the mark with her hand, as if trying to deny anything at happened at all. All while the evidence was imprinted on the skin of her neck. _What a stupid girl._

"Just a bruise," Jacques repeated my weak explanation.

"Yeah," I muttered softly, lowering my gaze to the ground. I just could not stand to look at myself anymore, not understanding at all why I was trying to deny the obvious. I mean, the proof was right there. I had a hickey on my neck.

"Just a bruise," Jacques asked again, with a more mocking tone to his voice. I knew then it was a lost cause. He knew I was lying to him.

"Let me see that," he said grabbing me by the neck, yanking me closer to him.

"Nope, looks like a hickey to me," he bluntly stated while slowly tightening the grip his hands had on my neck.

"He marked you as his," Jacques spat at me.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous. I'm a guy, I know what this means. He marked you as his," Jacques said.

"And you let him," he spoke with an accusing tone.

"I didn't know he was doing it."

"Bullshit. You let him touch you."

Jacques inhaled slow and deep breaths while still looking at the red tattoo Daryl had left on my neck.

"Maybe you and I should pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend again," he simply suggested.

"Yeah, because that worked out so well last time," I replied sarcastically while trying to get his hands off my neck, "Jack, you're hurting me."

He immediately stopped investigating me in the bright sunlight. "What did you just call me?"

Not understanding his question, I looked up at him.

"You said 'Jack'," he said, not only sounding shocked but also a bit disgusted.

I shrugged my shoulders, saying "That's your name."

"No, that's what the others call me, but not you, you call me Jacques."

"Da fuck does it matter," I grunted.

"Oh, so now you're not only making out with a redneck, but you're also starting to talk like one. What are you, his whore," he muttered, slightly losing his balance as he pushed me away from him.

"You don't know what you're saying. You're drunk," I tried to excuse his behaviour.

"You're such an idiot. I can never have a normal day with you around,"he slurred again while raising his hands in the air, squashing the bee that was still trying to flee the shed against the window. After the zooming sound of bee had stopped, a loaded silence filled the room.

Seeing the brown spot of insect blood slowly dripping down the window, made me think back at the night Jacques had committed murder just to protect me. How his hands and clothes were soaked in blood after he had strangled and beaten two men to death.

He never blamed me, though. Not once. He said those men were sick just like my father and none of this was my fault. I suppose he was right about that part but the truth of the matter is that I am not entirely innocent in this story. Every time Jacques had made up excuses like 'I'm cold' or 'the water is frozen' and took a shot of alcohol, I had looked away. I had simply stood by and at some point even fed his addiction. His condition was my doing.

"Jacques, I'm sorry,"I pleaded, trying to pull his arm so he would look at me, but he kept pushing me away like I was some sort of beggar, pleading for his riches.

"This is why you can't have any friends. Why people never bother sticking around. You're naïve and overall just fucking annoying."

I numbly watched as Jacques picked up all my clothes and blanket of the floor.

"Get out," he simply said as he shoved all my personal things in my hands.

"What," I asked. The shock of the moment caused all the stuff to slip from my hands and fall down on the floor, "You're kicking me out?"

"I changed my mind."

"What do you mean you've changed your mind?"

"Look, I've tried this whole caring thing. But quite frankly, taking care of you exhaust me. You exhaust me."

"Not even five minutes ago you said I was like a sister to you," I whispered, sounding genuinely disappointed in how fast things had gone sour between us.

"Well, you just agreed on NOT getting involved with the white trash we have creeping around this camp. Was what we just said to each other all a joke to you? Mhm, were you mocking me? Do you and Daryl talk behind my back about how stupid I am to believe you," he asked as my nose picked up the stinky smell of cheap beer. The odour definitely explained his sudden feeling of paranoia towards Daryl and me.

"_Putain_, walking around with a love bite the size of Texas on your neck," he stated while shaking his head disapprovingly.

"I didn't know Daryl had –"

"Enough with the excuses," Jacques raised his voice, "I'm going to say this one more time, so listen very carefully. Daryl is only going to break your heart. You know why, Skylar," Jacques asked his rhetorical question to me, "Because you don't mean anything to him," spitting the word 'anything' in my face, "And after you found that out the hard way, you'll be crawling back to me."

"Yeah? Well, don't hold your fucking stinky breath," I said, hurriedly picking up all my things off the floor in an attempt of fleeing the shed as quickly as possible.

"I know what I see, Skylar."

"You're only twenty years old, you don't know _jack_," my voice filled the room, "And yes, that was pun intended," I yelled while slamming the door shut behind me.

Now I know that using someone's age in an argument is rather pathetic , but I couldn't think of anything else to say. Besides, it didn't really matter what I said as long as I yelled something insulting back at Jacques and escaped the shed before he could think of a smart comeback. Yes, I am a firm believer in whoever throws the last punch wins the fight, no matter how weak that final punch had been. So according to me, I had just won this argument. Regardless of just being kicked out of the shed and being called a whore twice in two different languages.

The slamming of the door made Carl and Carol, who were dragging a walker towards a giant pile of bodies, look up.

"Everything okay," Carol asked as I watched an arm of the walker fall off.

"Yeah, everything's just peachy," I replied while struggling to hold onto my personal items I had grabbed in a hurry.

"Why are you holding all your stuff," Carl asked, who went to fetch the walker's lost limb and threw it onto the pile of death.

"We were moving elsewhere, right," I stated while walking towards the closest vehicle and throwing my stuff in it, "It's not like I kicked out or anything," I mumbled softly to no one but myself.

In the distance I could see Daryl standing next to Hershel's grave with his back towards me.

Being distracted by Daryl's presence, I shut the door of the trunk a bit louder than intended.

_'Oh shit, don't look up, Daryl,' _my inner-voice begged him not to look at the source of sudden loud noise.

Regardless of the pleas in my mind, Daryl turned around and by doing so confirmed I did not possess any telepathic powers. For a second there I considered diving under the car and pretending I was not there, but that would be childish. And given that I had just had the most childish argument imaginable with Jacques, I kind of felt the need to confirm that I can engage in a normal, mature conversation without it getting embarrassing.

There was about 70 feet between me and him. One might think that this is enough distance to come up with a good ice-breaker for a conversation. But by the time I had crossed the distance, this was the best that I could come up with;

"Here is something you can use to clean your hands with," I said, holding out an old red rag before I saw Daryl clean his hands on his pants, "… or not," I mumbled.

"Got it covered."

"Why are you back here? Shouldn't you be looking for Rose," I asked him.

"Found her," he said quietly while continuing to dig the second hole next to Hershel's grave.

"Oh," I muttered as I quickly realized my mistake. Rose had apparently died and Daryl was digging her grave.

'_Well, this is a nice, not-awkward conversation starter, Skylar,' _my mind scolded.

"Was she turned?"

He shook his head.

"Was she bit?"

He nodded weakly.

"You shot her," I stated.

He nodded again.

"You okay?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

Daryl definitely wasn't in one of his drunk talkative moods again.

_ 'We both know Daryl isn't the type of guy who likes to chit-chat,'_ Jacques' words replayed in my mind.

I walked over to a spare shovel that was planted into the ground next to Hershel's grave and tried my best pulling it out of the dry soil. But it honestly felt like trying to pull Excalibur out of a stone.

"What are you doing," he asked me, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Helping you," I said while still trying to pull the shovel out of the ground. It seemed as if the strains of the night before had started to weigh on me and all physical force I once possessed had left my body.

"You already dug Hershel's grave all by yourself."

"Yeah, but that was because nobody else was up for it."

It was true, nobody else seemed to be able to do it. Rick was upset. Robert wanted to keep looking for Rose. Jacques was still passed out on the floor of the shed. Carl wanted to clear as many walker bodies of the playground by the time the sun would rise as if removing the bodies would remove the horror of that night. T-Dog just wanted to go back to bed and forget it had ever happened. Glenn and Carol both had their hands full trying to comfort the inconsolable sisters Maggie and Beth. Justine was crying hysterically because she apparently saw Hershel get bit. And Lori was … euh busy being pregnant, I guess. So yeah, I dug Hershel's grave all by myself, because nobody else was up for it. And now I had at least five blisters on my hands to show for it.

"You don't have to get your hands all dirty. Just leave it to me," Daryl said before turning his back on me and continuing digging Rose's grave.

"You just shot a breathing person dead. You shouldn't have to do this all by yourself," I said, gently putting my hand on his shoulder in order to get his attention back to me.

"I can handle it, Skylar," he said, before flinching away so my hand lost all contact with his back, "I don't need your help!"

I had immediately noticed how Daryl had used my full name 'Skylar' instead of just 'Sky'. Before, I had always liked that he used a nickname while addressing me. Somehow such a simple gesture had made me feel special. But now, I could tell this was his way of showing he was distancing himself from me again. I don't think I could handle another of Daryl's seven weeks of silence. I have to admit that for a moment there I thought Jacques might be right.

"I know you don't need my help, but," I paused and inhaled a deep breath of courage before continuing, "…I just want to spend some time with you," I admitted softly. So soft I was not even sure Daryl heard it.

"Yeah? Well, maybe you should offer your help to Robert," he suggested, "Looks like he could use it. The guy started yelling at me when I told him I shot his granny."

"He's just mourning. He doesn't know what he's saying right now. Don't take it so personally."

"Don't take it so personally? Don't take it so personally," he raised his voice while bluntly repeating my suggestion.

"I shouldn't take it so personally," he yelled at me, while pointing at his chest. "You know, Robert started saying some pretty bad shit about you and me. About…," he hesitated for a moment, "what we did yesterday. He said I forced myself on you. That it was my fault he stopped looking for his grandma because he was too busy comforting you for something I did."

"Daryl, -"

"He said I was disgusting," Daryl said angrily, while scraping the shovel over a couple of stones hidden in the ground, making a metallic sound escape the grave.

"I believe he used the term no good trailer trash. Now if you ask me that's pretty damn personal."

"Daryl, …," I tried again.

"What," he asked rudely while throwing some sand out of the grave, making a cloud of dust appear. My lack of response made him turn around. He waited a couple of seconds before slowly looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes.

I was surprised by the look in his eyes because I had always thought Daryl was an expert at keeping things to himself. Mind you, people who hide their feelings tend to care the most. I know better than anyone to never underestimate the pain of another person. Because deep down, everyone is struggling, some people are just better at hiding it. I am one of those people and so is Daryl.

_So maybe Daryl does care about what happens to other people but just chooses not to show it. Then again, that might just be wishful thinking on my part. _

Still puzzled by the look on his face, I quickly decided that his red eyes were a result of the irritating dust surrounding us rather than him showing actual feelings to anything that had happened these past 24 hours. Hershel's death, putting Rose out of her misery, whatever happened between the two of us…

"You do know you didn't force yourself on me, right?"

"Right," he shrugged his shoulders as he shook his head and turned back around.

"I…," I stopped because Daryl didn't look my way again. Instead, he just increased his already high speed of grave-digging.

"I liked the way you touched me," I said softly. This time I was sure Daryl had heard my soft whisper because he brusquely stopped his movements before I saw his hands clench on the wooden shaft of the shovel.

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," he said before continuing digging.

_'Glad you enjoyed yourself,' _his voice echoed in my mind.

_'He's glad I enjoyed myself? What the hell does that mean,'_ my inner voice all but screamed in my head as I desperately tried to decipher the enigma that is Daryl Dixon.

In utter frustration and for lack of finding a good comeback to his blunt statement I turned around and walked away from the scene as quickly as my feet allowed me to. I looked behind me once more, glancing over to the one man that seemed to possess the talent for rendering me speechless, only to see him drop the shovel and come after me.


	19. Uncloaked

**CHAPTER 19: UNCLOAKED****  
**

* * *

Yesterday when I had heard his belt clanging onto the orange tiles, followed by the bold sound of his zipper opening slowly. When I had heard the teeth of it shamelessly being separated from each other, I knew I was ready for whatever consequences Daryl had in mind for me.

But today…today was different.

I was still keeping up a fast pace as I walked away from him, scolding my mind for even daring to think about yesterday. How his rough voice had whispered sweetly in my ear, '_Sky, it's gonna feel good, I promise.'_ Daryl, being a true man of his word, had kept his promise. Everything in that moment had felt sweet at the time but now the bitter aftertaste of an impulsive decision I had made yesterday reached my mouth. I swallowed down parts of yesterday's food as a high pitched voice worse than the scraping of fingernails on a dusty chalkboard, pierced through my ears. Chills of fear went down my spine as realization hit me that the cynic voice was none other than my father's.

'_Did you really think you and him were going to be together after that? What, you suck his cock and he makes you his girlfriend, was that your brilliant plan? You really thought he wanted you, didn't you? No one's ever going to want you, but me,' _the dark intense voice I had not heard for ten years filled my ears.

My tingling fingers rolled up in my hands, making tight fists as I fought to urge to hit something, thinking back at the man who was currently creeping inside my head again after being away for so long.

Not that he had ever been far away from me. If anything, he had always been close by. Just patiently waiting for the tiniest slip of mine, the smallest crack at the surface of my state of mind that would give him the opportunity of slipping into my thoughts and dreams. My father had always been in the back of my brain like some malignant tumour, just waiting for his chance to spread his venomous fear around in my heart and mind, making me sick from the inside out.

I had always tried my best to ignore that burning mass in the part of my brain filled with childhood terrors. But sometimes his rotten face just appeared in my dreams, turning them into vicious nightmares. Countless times I had woken up still feeling his hands on me, clawing at my flesh, leaving behind a deep stinging pain. Numerous times I was awakened by a shadowy voice whispering '_Zahara'_ like it was threating to spill the vilest and darkest secret it knew of me.

After the brusque awaking by his voice, I could always still feel his presence in the room with me, like he was watching me fall apart in front of him. As I crawled into a little ball under the safety of my blanket I told myself none of it had not been real. As my hands tried to put out the burning sensation that radiated from the scarred skin on my back, I told myself I had been imagining him hurting me.

But my mind simply could not erase the image of him curling of his lips knowingly nor the sound of his ferocious laughter echoing in mind as he ridiculed me for all the silly things I was dreaming about.

Other times I had been glad to see his face appear on rotten walker faces just before I bashed them in. It had been a motivation to break the bones of their skulls even harder. Yet it did not bring me the relief I wanted…nor the numbness I desperately needed.

But up until now this kind of hallucination had only happened when I felt vulnerable, like in case of a life-threatening situation such as fighting a walker or the threatening promise of an overflowing dark night roaming around me. And even then, I had just seen his face at a safe distance, but not the sound of his voice piercing right through my eardrums and entering my brain in broad daylight, talking to me like he was really here, standing right next to me, talking about Daryl as if he had known him all his life.

How did I get into this position again?

Was it only yesterday that Daryl was mounting over me before declaring he would never hurt me? His hands exploring every bit of me as his talented fingers gripped onto my thighs, building up this delicious unfamiliar tension. His dirty nails clawing down my scarred back, pulling me closer to him, not caring about the damage a past demon had done to me.

He had kissed that one place of me that had been neglected for so long. That one part of me that _I _had neglected for ten years. Ten hard, difficult years. _A fucking decade_ as Jacques had spelled it out for me.

He had touched me last night like he might rip me apart with his rough hands alone, like he couldn't get enough of me, like there were no walkers roaming around this post-apocalyptic world and the only danger he was in was dying from the desire for _me. _

None of my imperfections, whether they had been real or imagined, had mattered to him. I had somehow managed to win the attentions of this incredible funny… undeniably handsome… surprisingly gentle man.

How? Don't even bother asking me that, because I honestly don't have a clue. Before Daryl, I had thought I had manhood figured out…but I obviously had nothing figured out. Not about my own desires nor about someone else's. I had tried so hard to keep myself together that I told myself I didn't have time for 'extra-curricular activities' like sex or love or even friendship. I was too busy with trying so hard not to be uptight and self-conscious all the time. But trying doesn't make it so. If anything, trying very hard not to be uptight makes you even more anxious… anxious that people might just figure out what you really are... anxious that they might found out how rotten and dark you are on the inside.

The truth was I was a little miss know-it-all before meeting this group. I had always thought I knew everything about everyone because I had 'life-experience'. Sure, I had one pretty fucked-up experience, but that didn't give me the right to think so badly about other people or myself for that matter.

I had always hated sex. I had never wanted it before yesterday. And now Daryl had left me hanging on so confused and so…so fucking irritated. But not because I was mad at him for starting this. Oh no, I wish it were that simple. Because believe me, I wanted to hate him for doing this to me…for putting me into this position…for making me this vulnerable. After all, Daryl was the one who had initiated things between us long before yesterday, long before me going down on him in the woods, long before our seven weeks of bitter silence. He was the one who had started this in the car when he had asked me to sit on his lap under the false pretence of learning me how to drive.

Because let's face it, it was a trap he had lured me in after all…but I'll admit, I had blindly walked right into it even though I of all people should know better than to accept a man's invitation of sitting on his lap. Maybe Daryl hadn't realized he was doing it, although I very much doubt that. That man might pretend to be the socially-stupid guy around everyone else, but I know better than that. Daryl Dixon doesn't just do stuff unplanned. Everything he does is calculated. He doesn't just ask girls to sit on his lap without knowing what the possible consequences could be. He knew exactly what he was doing to me.

_Daryl was the one_ who had come in to the shower area. _Daryl was the one_ who had robed me from my towel. _Daryl was the one_ who had kissed me first. _Daryl was the one_…

I sighed deeply as I slowed my pace of walking, allowing my mind to think back at the poor conversation Daryl and I just had.

_Daryl was the one_ who had grunted _'Glad you enjoyed yourself'_, right after I had confessed to him I had liked the way he had touched me yesterday. Now, I don't know what response I had expected from Daryl , but I sure as hell knew it wasn't _that_…

So no, I wasn't mad at him for what he had started. I was mad at him for what he hadn't _finished_. I had come up to him this morning because I wanted to talk about whatever it was that had happened between us yesterday…whatever it was that had been going on between us for weeks. And now I was still walking away from him, because he had given me nothing to go on.

But my eyelids started twitching as if they were tempting me to steal one last glance at the hunched-over mess of a man standing next to the still unmarked graves … The only man in the world with the talent of making me want to say yes to undisclosed desires I had hid deep inside of me for ten dreadful years. I simply couldn't help myself.

When my head turned around to look at him, not only was I surprised by seeing him looking straight back at me, but also by the display enfolding in front of my eyes.

Daryl was talking to himself. I saw him mumble like he was having a internal debate with voices in his head. This went on for about a minute during which I saw him squinting his eyes at me several times, until he suddenly stopped and just stared straight back at me.

The shovel slipped from his hands as he got out of the grave with a look of determination written in all languages on his face. He was actually walking towards me at a rather fast pace.

I don't know what I had expected to happen when I turned around to look at him, but I knew _this _wasn't it.

Sensing a sudden fight-or-flight-situation after feeling both my breathing and my heart pace pick up, I turned around and walked into the school building. The surge of adrenaline slowed down a bit as I told myself that Daryl wouldn't really come after. That hopeful thought went right out the window as I heard the slamming of the entrance door behind me. Desperate at finding a good hiding place from Daryl, I came across a massive oaken door and stopped to stare at it as I could still hear the steady thump of my footsteps echoing in the hallway. _Or is that Daryl coming closer to me?_

I was once again faced with my incapability of reading as I struggled to decipher the sign hanging at the massive oaken door. Being well aware of the fact that Daryl was just a couple of feet behind me, I made the impulsive decision of heading inside without really knowing what I was getting myself into. The rusty hinges of the old door refused to let me in as I struggled to open it. After putting all my force into slamming my hands on the door, I decided to give it one more go. After one more push I could hear the squirming sound of the hinges in need of oil, indicating I had finally managed to open the door. As I got inside quickly, an old dusty smell welcomed me, making my nose sting. Before I could help it, a sudden expulsion of air from my lungs went through my nose and mouth.

"Ah-choo!"

If the loud creaking of the door had not given away I was in here, my sneezing definitely did.

"Ugh. Putain,' I mumbled, still sniffling.

I tried to look around me, but apart from a small beam of light, there wasn't much I could see. Walking towards the only light source in the room, I tripped over an object laying on the floor, grabbing hold of the curtain and clumsily tearing it down with me before making a hard landing on the wooden floor, head first. _God damn it, what is wrong with me? _

Not only did I make a lot of noise. Again. But now I could also feel a pounding where the floor had hit my head. _I mean, my head had hit the floor. Damn it, I can't think straight anymore._

On the plus side, pulling that curtain down with me, meant letting a bright light fill the room, allowing me to see the object I had tripped over. To my surprise the entire wooden floor was littered by these objects. In fact, this place was filled with them.

_Holy shit, I'm surrounded by books._

Apparently I had entered the library of the school. Never before had I been inside a library, simply because there had been no reason to. Knowing that I couldn't indulge in the wonders of book clubs or literature myself, I had not felt the need to look for a peaceful place to read about reckless adventures and silly romances. Furthermore, I never deemed it necessary to torture myself with a constant reminder of my illiteracy. Before the apocalypse I would have avoided a place like this, but now, with Daryl chasing me down, I had no other choice than to enter this unknown world. This library would have to do as a temporary shelter of refuge.

Quickly getting back on my feet again, I started looking for the perfect hiding place. Walking around in the library, I wondered what it would have been like if this school would still be open. The sound of paper turning and minds thinking at their best with the occasional disturbance of a chair being scrapped against the wooden floor. The librarian, a grey-haired woman with a plaid skirt, hushing children who are whispering secrets to one another. And even though I felt my IQ lower just by looking at all the rows of books I would never be able to read, I could taste the powerful aroma of imagination this place held. I started to appreciate the smell of new ideas cooking as old ones were rotting away in undecipherable books._ Do libraries always smell like this?_

Touching the smooth bindings of ancient and new books, I walked down the main aisle all the way to the back of the library. By the looks of posters hanging up at the aisles, I had just passed by what I guessed to be English and French literature and sat down on a velvet red chair by the children's books.

_'Zahara,'_ The sound of that same intoxicating voice seemed to come from behind another row in the library, like my father was actually in here with me.

"No, shh," I whispered to an empty library, holding a finger to my lips. The irony of the moment did not pass me by unnoticed as I noticed a poster of a smiley face holding a finger to his lips too, advising students to be quiet.

I needed silence to think about what I could possibly say to Daryl.

By the time the long anticipated creaking of the wooden door reached my ear, indicating Daryl's entrance, I still had not thought of anything to say to him that would even sound remotely 'casual' or 'uninterested'.

'_He is coming to tell you he wants you to leave the group,' _my father's honeyed voice whispered in my ears.

Even though, I did my best to ignore the shadowy voice filling my entire being, there was a small part of me that couldn't help but wonder if it was somehow right. What if that was the meaning behind the determined look on Daryl's face. Maybe he did want me to leave him alone. Maybe he just considered me to be last night's temporary distraction of the dangers outside this school.

_'That's right. He doesn't want you. Too much drama. That Justine girl might be his match, though.' _

I shook my head vigorously, not being entirely sure whether that was my way of expressing objection to anything my father said or my desperate attempt at shaking him out of my mind.

_'I mean who wouldn't want her. She's pretty. She's spontaneous. Scar-free. Undamaged. Like a Barbie-doll still packed in a plastic box, waiting for someone to play with her.'_

As the sound of a shuffle of two feet coming closer to me became louder, panic began to brew inside of me, making a thick fog cloud my mind. 'Just be random,' my panicked mind advised me, 'Random and spontaneous and unaffected by anything Daryl has to say.' In the haste of the moment I randomly picked a book of a shelf and opened it on a page. I could pretend to be casually reading a book because after all, that is what normal people do in libraries; read books.

_'I bet Blondie can read, too. Not like you pretending to read a book in the kids' section. Pathetic.' _

My eyes started to sting from focussing too hard on attempting to read at least one word from the book.

_'Zahara, I know you still love me,' _I didn't want to listen but his voice was so loud.

"Go away," I hissed rather loudly, giving away my hiding place. I knew Daryl was going to find me eventually, it just would have been nice if I would have been given some more time to think of –

"Sky," Daryl spoke up, interrupting my thinking process. I gave him a casual nod as if to acknowledge his presence in the room. 'Just be random and spontaneous and unaffected,' my mind repeated.

"Fuck, girl, are ya crying," Daryl's surprised voice asked.

I shook my head even though I saw tears hit the pages of the book. _So much for trying to be random and spontaneous and unaffected._

"Why're ya crying for, girl?"

"I'm not crying because of you, if that's what you're thinking. So don't flatter yourself!"

"So what are you crying for then," Daryl asked.

"This book is just so sad," I answered, still determined at keeping up the pretence of my ability to read a book.

"Why're ya readin' it if it makes ya so sad?"

"Sometimes sad stories can be beautiful, too."

"Now you've made me curious. What're you reading," he asked while stepping closer as if he was genuinely interested in the old paperback I was holding.

I looked at the book for clues that could possibly tell me what it was I was reading, but unfortunately my vision was blurred due to the tears in my eyes. The only thing I could see was that the cover of the book was coloured deep-red. I shrugged my shoulders, indicating that I did not know anything about the content of the book resting on my lap, but Daryl took that small gesture more as a sign of my reluctance to talk to him rather than my unknowingness.

"C'mon, Sky, talk to me."

I held out the book so he could see the cover for himself.

"Red riding hood," Daryl read the title of the book.

_Of all the books I could've picked, it had to be a damn fairy-tale. _

"Reading Red Riding Hood makes you cry," he said, sounding confused.

I knew he was waiting for an explanation.

"Do you know what the moral behind Red Riding Hood is," I asked him.

"Don't bother visiting your grandmother, cuz it might get ya killed," he bluntly replied.

I slowly shook my head as I tried to make the fog in my head disappear, but I felt so numb all of the sudden.

"Red Riding Hood was used as sex education for children to learn them about the dangers luring on them. Red's mother was unfit to explain sex to her, so Red was send to her grandma for some womanly advice. Her red cloak symbolizes her hymen, which she should keep on to brace herself for the "dark forest" of womanhood. And then this wolf shows up. But the wolf isn't really a wolf, you know. The wolf is actually a metaphor for a sexually predatory man."

A big frown appeared on Daryl's face as if he was trying to figure me out again.

"The man is unable to ignore certain desires he has. And even though he knows how wrong it is to have them, he act up on those desires. The wolf is just a creature driven by only one goal and that is to please himself by whatever means necessary. After all, a wolf thinks with his stomach and not his mind."

"At the end of the story, when Red Riding Hood tries to cheer her sick grandmother up, she doesn't realize that her grandmother is really the wolf she met in the forest earlier. If she had been more observant and not so wrapped up in her little red hooded world, she would have realized that there was something tremendously wrong with the way her grandmother looked and acted. The wolf, who only has one thing on his mind, tricks her into bed with him and eats her."

"But then the hunter comes in," Daryl spoke up, "He shoots the wolf dead and cuts the son of a bitch open, saving the little girl and the grandmother. Everybody knows that's how the story ends."

"That wasn't how the story originally ended, they just added that part to create a happy ending."

Because let's face it, everybody loves a happy ending. Even me. After all, that's what romantic comedies are for. They have silly plots and are predicable; if you've seen one, you've seen them all. But then again, the fact at how easy predictable the plots of such movies are, is probably the reason why people love them. Before getting ourselves into something, we, humans, need to know that there is a possibility of having a happy ending. We crave it. Happy endings allows us to dream of things that are improbable to happen.

"In the original story the girl doesn't get saved. Her red cloak gets shred to pieces and the wolf eats her alive, leaving nothing behind. Then, the wolf wakes up the following day and does the exact same thing to another girl," I said softly as I stroked the image of the yellow-eyed wolf, seeing the image clearly for the first time.

"There is no hunter. Nobody saves her. Her naivety killed her. She gave herself up to someone she thought she could trust."

Daryl bends over and sits down on his knees in front of me, taking the book from me.

"Are ya sure that's how the story goes," he asked while turning over the pages of the book as if he was looking for the explanation I had just given him.

"Yeah, you just have to read between the lines," I responded.

After finding nothing, he handed me the book again.

"There was this famous psychoanalyst once who said that little girls are not the victims in such a situation. He said that girls are also able to act on their desires and be bad little girls. Basically saying that both Red Riding Hood and the wolf are guilty of giving into their wants. Do you think he was right," I asked, looking him in the eyes, "Do you think she wanted it?"

"Why're ya asking me that? It's just a story, right?"

"Yeah, it's just some silly fairy-tale," I shrugged my shoulders, before looking at the picture of the wolf again, "It doesn't mean anything."

"Forget the book," he said as he grabbed the book out of my hands and tossed it over his head, "We need to have a chat, you and I."

My eye caught a fire escape sign, behind Daryl's head, blinking in the sun, like it was screaming 'Here's the exit. Leave while you can!'

"Don't run away from me again. It's pointless," Daryl said as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"I wasn't running away from you before. I was casually walking away from you," I stated as I shrugged my shoulders in lamentable indifference.

He raised his eyebrows, clearly questioning my use of 'casually' in that sentence.

"Fine," I admitted, "I _was _running away from you. Why do you care? It's not like you enjoyed talking to me outside."

"Well, sorry, Skylar," he raised his voice, "Sorry, I was too busy digging someone's grave to make 'polite conversation' with ya."

"Don't mock me. Arrogance doesn't suit you so just leave that to the Jacques's of this world."

I didn't need this, I already had my fair share of being yelled at today. I got up from the velvet chair with the full intention of walking out the library. Unfortunately Daryl got up from his sitting position as well and stood in my way.

"By the way, Daryl, I just wanted to ask how you were doing and help you out. Sorry for being interested in your well-being. I'll try _not_ to give a fuck next time," I said as I tried to walk past him.

"Don't walk away from me," he commanded as he took a step closer to me,"Ya wanted to talk," he said, pointing an accusing finger at me.

"Fine," I whispered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably with him standing so close to me.

"You're not really mad for me not letting you help me," he stated.

"Nothing goes by you, does it."

"Then why are you so mad at me for?"

"Because you make me feel stupid and pathetic," I admitted, "Because I clearly made you think that we don't have to talk about yesterday. So…"

"Well, I'm here now," he interrupted me, "So let's talk."

"I just wanted talk about you and me," I softly said.

"You and me," he repeated my words, "You and me, how is that _ever_ going to happen?"

There it was again. That unexpected loss of words. Suddenly, not knowing what to say to him. It happens often to me. I know exactly what I want to say, but when the moment comes to speak, I can't say actually it. I bit my lip until a shock of pain finally made the numbness disappear and I could taste blood in my mouth.

_"'You and I'_ have already happened, Daryl. Or did you forget what happened yesterday?"

"I was drunk yesterday."

"Don't you dare use that as an excuse," I raised my voice at him, suddenly feeling words escape my lips without thinking, "You weren't drunk yesterday in the fucking woods, were you? You seemed pretty sober when I was giving a blowjob," I pushed my hands on his chest, pushing him against the opposite row of books, "I told you you'd regret getting involved with me. But you just couldn't listen, could you? You just saw a girl desperate for your attention. You saw an opportunity to 'get some' and you took it. But, hey, no need to '_apologize for being a man', __Daryl, _" I repeated the words he once had said to me in the car after he had given me a driving lesson, "I walked right into the trap you set up. So I guess, it's my fault."

"Don't make it sound like I tricked ya into sumthin' you didn't wanna do. You clearly enjoyed it. You told me so yourself not even 15 minutes ago. You liked how I touched you."

"It's just that I don't know what ya want from me," he said, sounding genuinely confused.

"You want to know what I want from you," I asked him.

He nodded slowly.

"How about, I want you to stop mind-fucking me. You can't just say stuff like that to me one day, and then the next day treat me like I'm some plague infested rat, okay?"

"You can't just give me one of these things," I said, pushing my hair to the side so I could show him the hickey he left on my neck, "and then pretend like nothing happened between you and me. That's not how it works."

"You know, Jacques called me a whore when he saw the mark. And now I'm starting to think he might be right. Giving myself away to the first man who showed genuine interest in me. How fucking naïve of me."

"Boyfriend kicked ya out, didn't he?"

"Jacques's not my -," I let out a big sigh, feeling like I kept having the same conversation with Daryl. _Didn't we already discuss this?_

"He is NOT my boyfriend," I said, pronouncing every word of that sentence separately as if I was speaking to a toddler.

"That's not what he told me last night."

"Well, he was lying. Haven't you figured it out yet? Jacques lies, that's what he does."

"Then why were ya holding his hand during Rick's rant this morning, huh?"

"Because whether you like it or not, Daryl. He's my friend. I was comforting him."

"He's just using ya, you know," he said as he pushed his back of the row and started walking towards me slowly.

"The fuck you talking about," I asked him as I walked back step by step as Daryl kept getting closer.

"Ya don't think I've noticed yet, huh," he grunted at me as he took another step closer,"Ya don't think that stupid Daryl can recognize an addict when he sees one."

"Oh, please don't talk about yourself in the third person it's really unattractive," I tried to change the subject.

"What makes ya think I care about what you find attractive about me," he replied smugly before looking me straight in the eyes, taking another step closer to me.

I stepped back until my back met the row of books behind me. My sudden loss for words made me wish I could take a book of the shelf and read a random word of one of its pages, if that would mean that I at least had something to say to him. I was thinking of anything to say that wouldn't sound like gibberish, but nothing came. So I did what I did best and changed the subject once more.

"You don't know anything about the type of relationship Jacques and I have." At this point I would rather talk about Jacques than what I find attractive about Daryl. Simply because there might be too much to name really. He might get an ego.

"I know exactly what type of relationship you and _Jack-ass_ have. Hell, I saw it right from the start. You dragging his unconscious body over the snow-covered asphalt as ya tried yer best to fight off those walkers. You were so desperate to take care of him. But all you should've done was drop that dead weight hanging on your shoulders and run in the other direction. Ya should've run away as fast as you could to safe yourself."

I grunted loudly at his suggesting to leave Jacques being eaten by walkers.

"Leave the grunting to me, girl," he said, taking another step in my direction.

"Ya feel like ya owe him sumthing so ya try and help him. But the truth is that he's like a little tick sucking the life right out of ya. You have to pull the asshole from under yer skin, Sky."

"I need him just as much as he needs me."

"No, ya don't. Ya really don't need him. I don't know what bullshit he has imprinted in that little pretty head of yours. But you don't need _him_," he took in a deep breath before continuing, "You need someone who wants to take care of you for once," Daryl said, placing his hand next to my head. I immediately felt ten inchers smaller with him mounting over me.

"But he's the only one who likes me for me," I muttered, standing there motionless as I struggled to take in the man leaning over me. My hands grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt.

"Ya dumb bitch," he mumbled, his eyes flicking to my lips, "Ya really are a dumb bitch if you think that's true," Daryl said while the mole above his lip danced.

Not put off by the look of shock on my face, he leaned in even closer. Up to the point I could feel his uneven breath tickling my cheek. His face moved a bit closer to my ear as if he was about the whisper the world's biggest secret.

"I can't see _anything_ I don't like about ya," he said softly.

"Oh, but you will," I whispered back with a sour smile before a small tear escaped my eyes.

"Why're ya crying again?"

His hand caught the tear and swept it of my cheek.

"And why do ya feel so warm," he asked, holding his palm against my forehead, "Ya have a fever?"

He took a step back, leaving me clinging onto the row of books behind me to stop me from falling to the ground. "Ya didn't get bit last night, did ya?"

"No, of course not. Don't you think I would've told someone if that would have happened."

"Well, you're not exactly a talker, Sky," _said the pot calling the kettle black. _

"I don't know," holding my own hand to my head as if to feel the fever myself, "I've been feeling weird all morning," I said thinking about hearing my father's voice in my head.

"How long did you sleep last night," he asked while tugging a couple of hairs behind my ear so he could take a better look at me, most likely noticing the blue hills forming under my eyes.

"Euh, after all the shooting, dragging walkers on a pile and digging Hershel's grave, there wasn't really much time left to sleep."

"I didn't catch much sleep either. And I have watch in a couple of hours tonight so…," Daryl stopped mid-sentence.

"What are you thinking about," I asked him.

"Come with me," he said, before grabbing my arm and guiding me towards the entrance of the library.

"Okay," I said, even though I knew he was not really asking for my permission.

"Where to exactly," I asked, trying not to sound too worried.

"Jacques kicked ya out, didn't he."

"Mm," I answered, not being sure why Daryl was bringing that up again.

"You're going to sleep in my bed with me," he simply said as he dragged me into the hallway.

That wasn't even a question. He just stated I was going to sleep in the same bed as him.

"Okay," was all I manage to mutter out of my mouth. I don't know whether it was the feeling of exhaustion or surprise that made me agree with him.

"We're not leaving until tomorrow morning, anyway. Rick's orders. Where else are ya going to sleep? I can't just let ya sleep in a car. Safety-wise and all that," he began to sum-up all sorts of reasons why I should sleep in his bed. Not sure he had to. I mean, from the moment I knew a bed was involved, he had won me over. I was dead-tired.

"And you don't want to sleep refectory now with all that crying going on and shit," he said while dragging me into geography class, his room, "Besides, ya might make people sick with whatever it is you have."

"What about you? Won't you get sick if you sleep in the same bed as me?"

"Nothin' but bed bugs is going to bite me."

"That's it, isn't it," I asked him as realization hit me, "You think I'm bitten?"

He looked at his feet, not wanting to answer my question.

"That's why you don't want me to sleep in the refectory, is it? You think I'm going to kill all of them," I asked him, sounding genuinely upset, "So what, you were going to let me sleep in here and then kill me like you did Rose."

I was trying to get a reaction out of Daryl, but it wasn't working at all. In fact, he was standing there motionless, watching me.

"Daryl, I'm not bitten. I wasn't lying to you."

He still wasn't saying or doing anything.

"I'll prove it to you," I said angrily as I opened the zipper of my jacket and threw it off my shoulders onto the floor, "We already did a full body-check the first day I arrived here, might as well have another one," I bluffed.

"Wha – What are ya doin'," he stammered as he walked towards me, "Ya don't have to do that."

"No, it's fine. Nothing you haven't seen yet," I said as I made a motion to lift my top up.

"No, I believe ya. You're not bitten. I believe you," he said as he lowered my t-shirt, "But it doesn't mean that if I believe you, the others will, too. We've had an incident before with a guy named Jim who tried to hide his bite. People haven't exactly become more trusting after that. Plus, you've been very isolated from the group. People don't know who you are, Sky. They don't know if they can trust you."

I had thought Daryl wanted to protect the others from me, not the other way around.

"Here," Daryl said while holding out a bottle of pills.

"What's that?"

"Ibuprofen. It will help reduce to fever. It's also a painkiller so it might make you sleepy."

I gladly accepted the bottle of pills, took a couple out of it before putting them in my mouth.

"Here. Drink this up," Daryl said as he gave me some water and I handed him back the pills.

He shook the bottle of pills, listening to the sound it made. "How many did ya took, Sky," he asked, sounding a bit worried as if he had shaken the bottle and immediately knew the content of it had lowered by half.

_Who does he think he is, Rain man? _

"How many did ya took," he repeated his question, sounding more serious now.

"Four."

"The bottle clearly says 'take one at the time'," he said, showing me the label of the bottle.

I looked at it and indeed saw the number 1 written on there, but there were so many other numbers on it. How was I supposed to know which number indicated how many I was allowed to take.

"Woopsie," I muttered, shrugging my shoulders, "Do you think that's bad?"

"All I'm sayin' is, you're not throwing up in my bed," he warned, pointing at the mattress on the floor, "But you'll live, I suppose."

"You suppose? Well, that sounds comforting," I said as I couldn't control a yawn escaping my throat.

"Lay down," he said, gently pushing me on the mattress.

"My boots," I muttered.

"Relax, you're sick. Let me take care of that."

Even though someone was tugging at my leg, I couldn't care anymore. I was in my happy place, not entirely sure if that was the drugs' doing or Daryl's.

Right before I could feel myself drift off into Neverland, the mattress shifted as Daryl put his weight on it, getting into bed with me.

"I'm cold," I said, knowing very well that I sounded like one of those desperate woman in a romantic comedy, practically begging the male lead to put his jacket on her shoulders, but I was genuinely feeling a coldness creeping under my skin.

"Come here," he said.

He rolled me over on my back so I could face him. As he leaned over my body, he gently held his hand onto my forehead. "Shit, Sky, you're burning up."

"Yeah," I asked, my teeth chattering, "I'm freezing, tough."

I felt chill to the bone, to be more exact.

"The ibuprofen just needs some time to kick in."

Daryl surprised me by pulling me closer to him and hold me close to his body heat. My lips were now touching his collarbone as our legs were intertwined.

"Better," he asked as moved his hands up and down my back.

"Much," I admitted, liking the way I could hear his heartbeat in his neck.

"She didn't want it, you know," Daryl spoke up.

"Who didn't want what," I asked, sounding sleepy.

"Red Riding Hood," he said, "She didn't want to the wolf to eat her. She didn't understand what was happening to her. How could she have known it was wrong?"

I couldn't help but smile a little in the crook of his neck.

"Who was this idiot anyway who said that little girls like to be eaten by wolfs," Daryl asked.

"Sigmund Freud wasn't an idiot," I laughed, making the mattress shake a little.

"Sounds like an idiot's name to me," he simply said, still moving his hands up and down my back.

"You're funny," I mumbled as I unsuccessfully fought the feeling of sleep wash over me. I had almost missed his reply. Almost.

"Yer soft," I smiled as I gave him an even more firm squeeze and I heard him say something like 'fuck, Sky'. But I couldn't be sure anymore as my eyelids startd to feel heavy and my ears could only hear the fast paced heartbeat in his neck.

Before falling asleep, I couldn't help but wonder whether Daryl would be my hunter saving the day or just another wolf eating me alive.

* * *

A/N

Wow, that is the longest chapter I've written so far. It was a difficult one to write... Not only because the first part was as depressing as fuck but also because I have exams. And it's getting difficult to find time to write, even though I want to :(

**Anyone else having exams? Good luck!**

**Btw, that Freud theory about the Red Riding Hood is actually true. Did you know that your parents were basically telling you rape-stories before you went to bed? **

**What did you think about my 'Daryl-is-talking-to-himself'moment? **

Poor Skylar, being sick and hearing her father's voice. She is rather self-concious, isn't she? Immediately assuming Daryl is going to tell her to leave to group...

I actually think the only reason why Daryl was holding back from Skylar is because he genuinely believed that Jacques was her boyfriend. But now he is sure Jacques isn't... things might happen between Sky and Daryl.

And then at the end Daryl takes care of sick Skylar. How nice, someone is finally taking care of her. I believe Daryl has a caring side to him. We already saw that during Sofia's disappearance. I don't know if that side of him comes out more in the third season because I haven't seen it yet, but I hope so.

**Do you guys think Daryl already knows about Skylar's past?** He has seen her scars and he has listened to her tell that story about Red Riding Hood... I mean, it doesn't take a genuis to figure out what happened to her...


	20. Nocturne

Noc·turne

**1. **A painting of a night scene.

**2. **An instrumental composition of a pensive, dreamy mood, especially one for the piano.

I've been studying French non-stop for the past three days so my English in this chapter might sound off a bit.

_Je m'excuse par avance! _

* * *

**CHAPTER 20: NOCTURNE**

* * *

My eyes fluttered open after hearing movement in the room. _Where am I again?_ Right, geography class. Daryl had invited me to his bed. I hadn't slept this well in ages. No nightmares, no weird dreams, no shadowy voices. I felt better too, like I hadn't been sick at all. When I streched out my body to let the sleep leave my tired muscles and bones, I became aware of two things. One, Daryl wasn't in his bed anymore. Two, something really soft and warm was surrounding me.

"Ya were shaking the entire time you were sleeping. I can't be here to hold on to ya forever, so I put that fur on ya," Daryl's voice broke the silence of the night.

I got up from the mattress and followed the sound of his warm voice as only my toes made contact with the cold tiles of geography class. I found him standing at the window, looking outside. Although, he did not really seem to be looking at anything, his gaze was very unfocused like he was in deep thought about something.

He cleared his throat before turning around and staring at me for a moment, his mouth twitching, "Go back to sleep, I have watch. I'll be outside."

_No_, my mind thought as I clenched my fist. My heart sank at the thought of him leaving me alone in the darkness of the night.

"You're shaking again. Get back into that bed," he commanded before looking over to his crossbow, loyally waiting for him on one of the school desks.

"Don't make me drag yer ass in there," he yelled at me, stepping closer to me. I was not backing away, though, he was going to try harder than that to spook me.

His blue eyes pierced almost painfully into my green ones as if he was frantically looking for something inside them. He shook his head after finding nothing and held out his hand. "Come're," he said, his command softer this time.

"Lay down," he said before pushing me gently down on the fur. I had expected him to turn around and leave me alone, but instead of going outside to take watch, he sat down on the matrass with his backs towards me.

"Sky," he asked hesitantly before turning his face in my direction, "will ya ever let me touch you?"

I just nodded at him, even though I wanted to say yes, but my throat seemed to be unable to let out any sounds.

"Can I touch ya now," he asked, now turning his entire body towards me, making the matrass shift under his weight.

A deep blush covered my cheeks as I could feel myself slowly nodding yes, shyly giving into my desires for him.

He smiled at me so mischievously my mind couldn't help but to try and remember why there even ever was a time I was holding back from him.

He lifted his forefinger in the air and pointed it towards me. I stared at Daryl and waited for him as my breath was already coming fast and shallow, even though he had not touched me yet. Just thought of him touching me already seemed to have such a strong effect on my ability of keeping my cool.

His forefinger began its journey tentatively at the love bite on my neck. Daryl admired his own art work on my neck before he whispered, "Mine" almost menacingly as if he is warning me I belong to him, instead of asking me to be his. "Mine and no one else's," he said softly as his eyes shimmered in the dark of the night. His finger shaped the contour of my neck and shoulder, making goose bumps appear on my arms.

I felt his stare on my face as he came closer to me, but my own eyes were focussed his finger and seemed to be unable to look away from it. Unmistakeably aware of the effect his touching had on me, his forefinger continued its path, gently tracing a blue vein on my lower arm before halting on my wrist. His other hand found the skin between my tank top and my pair of jeans, and stroked it softly as if he was caressing me to sleep. But I knew that is not what he wanted…All too well I realized what the reason behind his soft stroking was…I knew exactly what he had on his mind.

"You are so soft," he said in disbelief almost, even though he was touching me as he spoke. He leaned in closer until his nose was touching mine. "Can I kiss ya," he asked just before leaning in even more and his lips touched mine, like his mind was already made up regardless of my possible answer. His hand left my wrist and found its way into the long strands of my hair, guiding my head exactly how he wanted it. No form of objection escaped my lips. On the contrary, I only managed to express a strong confirmation of my desire for him as I felt myself kissing him back automatically. A needy groan from his chest roared into my throat as one of hands crept up from the back of my knee to the soft flesh of my hips. "I just wanna feel ya," he whispered to me in an almost soothing matter just before I could feel the scruff of his beard scratch my neck as his lips kissed me there.

Slowly opening the button of my pair of jeans while his other hand continued to hold a tight grip on the locks of my auburn hair, the pace heartbeat picked up at the thought of what he had in mind for me. I suddenly lost contact with his warm body as he quickly lifted his weight of me and took off his flannel shirt, not even bothering to unbutton it. Finally giving me a chance to look at his chest that always had been covered up with a thick layer of clothing before. I had always suspected that what he had kept hidden underneath that winter coat had to be something special. And he did not disappoint, I was staring at the male embodiment of perfection. The plains of his chest were smooth and unscathed. Unable to resist the temptation sitting before me, I reached out my hand and touched the skin of his chest. It felt soft and warm under my hands as I explored it. His muscles were definitely well looked after and the skin of his arms was tanned bronze all over. I liked my lips in expectation of what is yet to come.

His hands found my hips again, coaxing me to lift my hips for him so he could slide my pair of jeans off my legs. After tossing superfluous fabric on the floor next to his shirt, he turned his attention back to me. His eyes slowly looked up from my ankles, to my panties before halting their stare on my face.

He was staring me down as he approached me as if he was warning me to not to leave. But I knew I wanted to stay, not because of his hypnotic stare but because I wanted _him. _ All of him.

There was so much I want to say but no words come to mind when I felt one of his hands sneak inside my panties and explore the covered area.

"Fuck," he dragged the word out in disbelief, "You're so wet for me."

Kissing my already exhausted lips again while his thumbs slid under by the elastic of my panties and pulled the fabric down before throwing it over his shoulder.

"Let me take care of ya," he whispered, pushing my legs open with his elbow and almost ripping my tank top of my upper body.

"You're beautiful, Sky," he said, kissing my right breast. My fingers dug in the fur underneath me as my hips ground in the matrass, making the metal springs let out a creaking noise.

The clanging sound of his belt unbuckling followed by the rusty noise of his zipper opening, made my breath hitch. He gave me one of his best smug smiles as he positioned himself between my legs once more.

"Don't be afraid," he growled at me. "Sky, it's gonna feel good, I promise."

Yet, the change in his tone of voice had the exact opposite effect than intended. The meaning of his words 'don't be afraid' fade away at the way he growled them at me. His growling, almost howling even, reminded of something, although I was not entirely sure of what.

_Now, he's cut through the forest to get there ahead.  
He's outrun and out-foxed you,  
and soon he'll be fed._

The words of an old nursery rhyme singing in my mind, made me realize my horrible mistake. His lips which had been kissing my neck sweetly before, started to suck the skin so roughly up to the point a tingling pain settled itself in my throat. I could feel his teeth break my skin just where he had left the hickey in my neck. The wolf had tricked me into his bed. The love bite had just been his appetizer and he was claiming his main course now.

_For he's lean and he's mean.  
He's fierce and he's keen.  
He's a hunter, a stalker, a killing machine._

A horrible growling made my hair stand on end, "Zahara." The vibration of the sound seemed to awaken something in me. Fear. The old nursery rhyme sounded like a torturous chant now, reminding me of how foolish I had been to trust someone.

Daryl let out another growl before he stopped biting me and lifted his weight of me, my blood dripping from his lips onto my chest, fierce yellow eyes looking back into mine. Brusquely he bend back down, ripped my brothers' medallion off and started feasting on my breasts.

_'After all, a wolf thinks with his stomach and not his mind,' _my own voice scolded at me, waking me up from my vicious nightmare.

I shot up straight in bed, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. The cynic laughter of my father still echoed in the geography class as I became aware of my surroundings. My right hand quickly grasped at my neck only to find its skin still intact. Reassured at the feeling of unbroken skin, my breathing became less frantic and I was able to swallow down my fear._ How will I be able to sleep after that? Will I ever be able to sleep soundly without Him creeping in my dreams?_

Images of the nightmare flashed through my mind all at once. Shaking my head, I told myself none of it had been real. Not the sweet beginning of the dream, nor the violent ending of it.

It was a shame, really. I thought maybe…just maybe it could have been kissing me like that, stroking me so softly… saying those lovely things to me. But then it was like he transformed into an animal. _How can something so sweet turn out so evil?_

As I felt a sudden grip on my other hand tighten, I looked behind me only to see the protagonist of my nightmare lying beside me, sound asleep, securely holding my hand close to his open mouth.

_After all, a wolf thinks with his stomach and not his mind._

I quickly pulled my hand out of his grasp, waking up Daryl with my brusque movement.

"Sky," he asked, sounding like he had forgotten he had invited me in his bed. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before sitting up on the mattress so he could look at me.

"Hey, Sky" he asked with a more concerned tone to his voice now, "Look at me," he commanded while trying to touch my cheek before I flinched away, "Is something wrong?"

I opened my mouth to say something but instead of words, the mosh potato Carol made yesterday came out.

* * *

**A/N:**

So yes, it was a dream.

There were several hints that should've told you this was a dream sequence :

1. Skylar can't speak in the dream. (Or moan, whichever you prefer)

2. Daryl doesn't have scars in the dream (Skylar doesn't know he has them, so she can't imagine them) I mean; "I was staring at the male embodiment of perfection." You had to know something was up by then.

Thanks again to **LoneWolfChild, fbg67, zaii** for reviewing! And thanks to **cheryl84x, Adageyudi, shannon allen, LoneWolfChild **and** haylee5710** for following!

Btw **LoneWolfChild** that site you PM'ed me. God, so many other Daryl Dixon stories on there. Thank you! I think I pretty much read every Daryl Dixon story on this entire site, so it is nice to have a new source of stories.

Question for the **native speakers (or people who are just good at English)**: In this phrase

'As I felt a sudden grip on my other hand tighten, I looked behind me only to see the protagonist of my nightmare **laying** beside me, sound asleep, holding my hand close to his lips.'

= Is that 'laying' part wrong? Because Word keeps underlining it and keeps saying that it is supposed to be 'lying', but that comes from the verb 'to lie', right? But that doesn't make any sense in this sentence... Please someone tell me I'm not losing my mind. Maybe I've been studying too much French or something.

_Ugh,_ w_hatever, je m'en fous. _


	21. The Damsell in Distress Syndrome

OMG. WHAT'S HAPPENING? IS THIS A NEW CHAPTER? I THINK IT IS.

MY EXAMS ARE DONE! YES! AND I UPLOADED A NEW CHAPTER! YES!

SHOULD I STOP YELLING? I PROBABLY SHOULD.

* * *

**CHAPTER 21: THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS SYNDROME**

* * *

"I feel like shit," my voice barely managed to speak louder than that one of a certain Mr. Cash echoing through the stereo boxes of the car.

"You look like shit, too," Jacques quickly replied before letting out a short chuckle. Always so damn quick with comebacks. I should really learn to pick my words more carefully around him. Shaking my head at my own stupidity I looked outside the car at the beautiful landscape of Georgia. Not that I could see a lot. Everything was soaking wet. The roads were threatening to float over. But there was no going back now, we had to find something else quickly. Rick had, due to the bad weather and lack of spare gas, encouraged Daryl to leave his bike behind, assuring him that the group would come back to the high school at the start of the next winter. After Daryl had reluctantly agreed with Rick's proposal, the group had packed their bags and seated themselves into three different cars. Jacques who had clearly forgotten any bad words said between the both of us, had underlined his right to sit in the same car as me. Daryl had been driving our car for at least three hours in eastern direction during which Jacques had let out numerous patronizing remarks towards anything Daryl said or did. This earned him the occasional eye-rolling on my part and some typical Daryl grunting as Rick did his best ignore Jacques' comments by focussing on his task of finding a new safe haven for the group on a map.

"Shut your mouth,_ Jack_-ass," Daryl spoke up. He really seemed to like the new nickname he had made up for Jacques and had used it frequently during our little road trip, "Shit comes out of it," Daryl concluded. I smiled a little at the fact that Daryl had felt the need to defend my honours while playing with Carl's hair who was sleeping on my lap.

"I'm getting tired of listening to this shit," Jacques said while pointing angrily at the stereo system.

"It ain't shit. It's country," Daryl defended his choice of music.

"_Oh, my wife done left me, my dog done died but luckily I still got my big-wheeled truck_," Jacques spoke with a southern accent. He actually did manage to pull the accent off and sounded just like Daryl in the mornings, all hoarse and rough.

Jacques' imitation of Daryl made me think back at waking up next to him earlier that day. After that weird dream about Daryl transforming into a wolf, I had not only puked on the mattress but also on the man himself. Gross, I know. And really unattractive, too. I could feel my cheeks redden at the mere memory of him having to scrape the puke off his matrass.

Yet the thought of being together with him in one bed and maybe someday do something other than sleeping and puking, left me grinning on the backseat of the car. My smirk however quickly disappeared after Daryl gave me a warning glare in the rear-view mirror. _He didn't actually think I was laughing at him or his music taste, did he? _Because I wasn't. On the contrary, that spooky dream with the brutal ending yet sweet beginning had definitely left its marks on me. Now, every time I looked at Daryl I couldn't help but actually imagine him and I doing those dreamy things to each other. So no, I wasn't grinning because of Jacques' imitation of Daryl, but because of a flashback of something that had never happened… Reliving an imaginary memory, so to speak.

"That phrase basically sums up the plot of every country song. This music is shit. Turn it off," Jacques continued.

"Could you guys stop with the shit-talk already," Rick said while studying the map laying on his lap.

"Don't worry about Carl hearing anything bad from us. The boy is sleeping soundly," I said, softly touching the dark-haired boy lying on my lap.

"Oh, I'm not worried about Carl. I'm worried about myself. All this bad language, I can't even hear the music anymore."

"Yeah, whatever. Skylar started it," Jacques commented.

"I did not," I said, refusing to take the blame for another round of Daryl's and Jacques' bickering.

"_Oh, I feel like shit," _Jacques spoke with a British accent, holding his hand against his forehead, pretending to faint.

"That is NOT how I talk."

_"Oh, Daryl, Jacques said something mean about my appearance. Please defend my honours," _Jacques continued, making me sound like some sort of damsel in distress. But even though his imitation of me was highly irritating, it earned him a rare laugh from Daryl who apparently found the entire display very entertaining.

"I would NEVER say something like that," I said, trying to keep my voice as low as possible so it wouldn't wake Carl up, "I'm sick, conard," I poked Jacques in the chest, "That's why my voice is so hoarse, okay."

"Mhm, that's right. Little bird told me you threw up on Joe Dirt," Jacques said, impolitely referring to Daryl.

_Oh God, did he really had to bring up that embarrassing moment again? _

"Little bird being a small Asian named Glenn," I asked, even though I already knew the answer. I faintly remember passing by Glenn as Daryl carried me to the shower area to clean up the mess I had created on his clothes and mine. Daryl actually had asked Glenn if he could take over his watch so he could stay with me. Glenn who had been keen on spending an evening in bed with Maggie, had reluctantly accepted after I had gagged in the direction of his beloved sneakers.

"A good research journalist never reveals his sources," Jacques said, slightly shaking his head, "Well, is it true," he asked rather pressingly, poking me with his elbow.

"Just rumours, nothing more to it, " I tried to minimize the puking-incident, but of course Jacques didn't fall for it.

"God, you're shit at lying," Jacques laughed.

"What did I say about using that word," Rick stern voice silenced Jacques high-pitched laugh.

"Yeah, Jacques. Sois belle et tais-toi," I said, winking at the fair-haired boy.

"And what did I say about speaking French in front of us? It's impolite, don't do it," Rick said rather sternly, clearly fed up with our constant quarrelling over the music. I sighed deeply and bit my tongue to stop myself from saying anything else whilst Jacques visibly rejoiced in the rebuke Rick had just given me.

"Who's in favour of turning the music off," Jacques asked while enthusiastically lifting his hand high in the air. Not getting the reaction he had hoped for, he grabbed my hand laying on my Carl's hair and lifted it up. "That's two pro radio silence."

"There's five of us, you're still the minority," Daryl deflected Jacques' weak argument.

"Hey Carl, do you want to keep listening to Cash," Jacques asked as he made a motion to wake Carl from his slumber.

"No, don't wake him up," I said while tapping Jacques' hand away from Carl.

"_I_'m driving which means _I_'m the DJ. So _I_ pick the music," Daryl stated matter-of-factly.

"Fine. At the next stop _I_'ll drive and _I_'ll pick the music," Jacques concluded.

"No, you're not going to drive," Daryl denied Jacques' suggestion.

"Why not? I have a driver's license," Jacques asked angrily.

" 'Cause you're –," Daryl almost finished his sentence with the word 'drunk' before I interrupted him by practically coughing my lungs out.

"Skylar, what's gotten into you? You got the flu or something," Jacques asked, patting my back.

"Yeah, something like that."

Little did Jacques know that my coughing was the perfect cover-up for what Daryl had planned on saying. Unfortunately it also woke up Carl who was now stirring in my lap.

"After the next stop Sky gets to drive the car," Daryl said.

"Are you serious? The girl can't drive. You're trying to get us all killed or what," Jacques asked mockingly.

"I taught her. I'm sure she can keep the car on the road better than your drunk ass anyway," Daryl said angrily.

Unfortunately, Daryl wasn't really cooperating with my plan of keeping his knowledge of Jacques' addiction a secret. I didn't think Rick had heard Daryl's accusing comment, because he still seemed to caught up with the land map lying on his lap.

"You told him," Jacques whispered his soft accusation in my left ear.

I shook my head, "He guessed it," I responded quietly.

"You can go fuck yourself, Skylar," Jacques swore softly, clearly doubting my loyalty to him.

"Dad, I have to pee," Carl said before yawning, completely unaware of what was transpiring between Jacques and me.

"Daryl will stop the car first chance he gets, okay?"

As soon as the car stopped at the side of the road. Carl hopped out of car and sprinted towards the bushes.

"Shit, Carl!" Jacques yelled after him, "You have to wait for the rest of us." But the boy had already disappeared into the bushes, "Damn it."

"Guess it was urgent."

"Jack, can you keep an eye on him," Rick asked him while pointing his finger in the direction in which Carl had disappeared.

"Sir, yes, sir," Jacques replied, saluting the man.

"I was a sheriff's deputy, not an army officer," Rick said, sounding disappointed that Jacques couldn't remember such a simple fact about him, before walking towards T-Dog to discuss driving tactics.

It wasn't that Jacques hadn't remembered what Rick used to do for a living. But saluting Rick the way he did, was just his way of indicating that he didn't like to be told what to do. Even before the dead starting rising, Jacques had always liked making fun of authoritarian figures. Mostly bouncers refusing to give a free pass or bar tenders demanding to see his ID.

As Jacques followed Carl down the bushes, Daryl turned the engine of the car off, bringing an abrupt stop to Johnny Cash's talkative singing. After the departure of the biggest chatterbox that was Jacques Albert, the sound of silence, occasionally disturbed by the rhythmic ticking of rain drops hitting the car, surrounded us.

And although I welcomed the silence after three intense hours of non-stop bickering between Daryl and Jacques, I could tell by Daryl's behaviour that he wasn't entirely comfortable with it. Drumming the steering wheel with his fingers before biting his thumbnail and giving me a couple of not-so-subtle glances in the rear-view mirror. I knew he was thinking of something to say – anything that could fill this silence between us.

"So," Daryl began hesitantly, "it's raining outside."

"Yep," I responded casually. _Just like it has been for the past two hours. _

"I like rain," he said somewhat awkwardly.

_Oh god_. I knew people in Britain liked to talk about the weather because it was a safe subject to discuss. But I did not realize it was thing in the US too.

"Hope we won't get hit by lighting, though, might fry to death," he added.

"We won't get hit by lighting. I mean, the car might get hit by lighting but we wouldn't feel it," I simply stated, still looking outside.

The clicking sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, brought my attention back to the driver sitting up front. After putting his back against the door of the car in order to see me without having to look in the rear-view window, he asked the following question, "What did you just say?"

"I said the car might get hit by lighting but we wouldn't feel it," I stuttered, suddenly feeling tongue-tied with his direct gaze on me, "It's because of Faraday cage," I mumbled on.

"Whose cage," he asked, not understanding what I had just said.

"Faraday cage or Faraday shield," I repeated louder this time.

Daryl looked at me, completely not understanding what I was trying to say. _Okay, maybe he just really doesn't know what it is._

"A Faraday cage is named after Michael Faraday, who was a brilliant scientist and experimentalist in the field of electromagnetic energy," I said, hoping that the name Faraday would ring any bells, so I would not look like a complete geek in front of Daryl.

He nodded to me as if to say 'go on'. So I did.

"Faraday theorized that electromagnetic waves naturally flowed around the surface of conductive materials and not through them like some other scientists believed. So for instance if a metal box containing a mouse were placed directly in the path of an electrical current, the electricity would flow over the box but not into the compartment with the mouse. So the mouse would not be electrocuted. The box can then be considered a Faraday cage."

"A car can be considered a Faraday cage as well, because when a car is struck by lightning, the metal frame draws the electricity away from the passengers inside. So we're perfectly safe sitting in the car. It's actually all the people outside of the car that should be worried about 'being fried to death'," I repeated his use of words, motioning in the direction of Maggie and Glenn sheltering under a tree.

"I don't know if you've ever flown anywhere," I asked him.

He shook his head, "Never left the state of Georgia."

"Well, if you ever decide to fly on an airplane and it flies into a storm, you shouldn't have to worry because a plane is a Faraday shield as well. So if it's suddenly struck by lightning the plane nor the passengers on board will be affected by the electricity," I explained enthusiastically, not being able the grasp how amazing science could be sometimes.

"Thanks to the aluminium body of the airplane which creates a Faraday cage, the charge from the lighting can pass harmlessly over the surface of the plane without damaging the equipment or people inside. Cool, right," I asked Daryl.

"Euh, I didn't know that," he said slowly, staring with an open-mouth at me.

I did not really know why I was talking in physics language to him all of the sudden, but I just did not know what else to say to him. _Weren't we casually talking about the weather?_

"I'm sorry," I said softly while shaking my head, "I'm boring you."

"No, no it was interesting," he said, not sounding very convincingly, "I have to say, I worked in a garage for years, but I did not know cars could protect you from lighting."

As his eyes met mine I found it impossible to contain laughter, "It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that."

"Well, yeah," he said, clearly enjoying the fact that he had made me laugh, "I was just paraphrasing what you said. How do ya know these things, anyway?"

"My dad was a physics professor."

"Was? Did he die or sumthin'," Daryl asked.

"No, he quit his job after my mum and brother died. But he insisted on spreading his love for science around like a virus. So instead of reading me a bedtime story, he would give me a fun physics fact of the day."

I could tell by the questioning look on Daryl's face he had difficulties believing that my father would actually do that.

"Yeah, true story," I nodded my head.

"Not really a normal father then, was he," Daryl asked, still frowning deeply.

"No," I said looking away from him, sitting with my back against the seat again so he could not see me in the rear-view window anymore, "not really a normal father."

Saying my father was not normal, would be the understatement of the year.

"That's weird. I just always thought ya grew up in warm and cosy family."

_Warm and cosy family. _As if.

I huffed, not feeling entirely comfortable discussing any topic related to my father, I stared at the water streaming down the car window, hoping Daryl would drop the subject spontaneously.

Rick's tapping on the window next to Daryl made me feel relieved because that way I didn't have to think of anything to change the subject. That happiness was however short-lived when the well-timed interrupter stated the following, "We can't find Jack."

"Have ya looked in the trees? A baboon like that might –"

"Daryl, this isn't funny. We can't find him. He ran after Carl so I thought he was keeping an eye on my son, but Carl just came back and said he never saw Jack."

I don't know why but I immediately got a bad feeling…

"Alright," Daryl said, opening the car door on his side, "Boy could not have gotten that far in this weather," Daryl closed the car door again, leaving me sitting alone in the Hyundai, hearing nothing more but the soft murmuring of Daryl's and Rick's voices and the light ticking of rain drops on the roof of the vehicle.

I opened my car door as well but was quickly stopped by Rick. "Stay in the car, Skylar, you're still not well," Rick spoke in a soft paternal voice.

"But –," I started to protest but Rick closed the car door again before I got the chance to let out any real form of objection.

When I tried to open the car door once more, it didn't really seemed to want to cooperate with me.

_Did Rick just put on the child safety lock?_

I tried to open the door once more, but the thing refused to move one inch. I rolled down the window and called Daryl to me.

"Could you open the door? I think Rick put the child lock on," I said to him.

"Yeah, I know. I asked him to," Daryl stated.

"What? Why would you do that for?"

"Because I know how persistent you can be," Daryl said.

"You're the one calling me stubborn? Really? Now that's just hilarious," I snapped at him before letting out a humourless laugh.

"Look, I know you're worried about Jack. But he has probably just found some mushrooms in the woods and ate them," he said jokingly. I wasn't able to laugh or even smile at his statement, though. What if something really bad had happened to him?

"But what if –"

"No! No 'what ifs'. Just sit tight and wait for us to return. T-Dog, Carol and Carl over there," pointing at the threesome standing by the Dodge, "are going to stay here."

So not only did I need to be child-locked inside a car but I apparently also needed three babysitters. Now I know I could have climbed to the front seats of the cars and get out that way, but I decided not to put up too much of a fight. The group was already searching in the woods anyway, it was too late to catch up with them.

I didn't have to wait very long, because after almost twenty minutes the group had already returned. Yet, Jacques wasn't amongst them. I tapped a couple of times on the car window signalling Carl to open my door so I could finally be released from this temporary prison.

As Carl opened my car door, allowing me to finally get out of the vehicle, Daryl came to stand before me.

"Where is Jacques," I asked Daryl, standing on my toes to see if he was following behind the group instead of walking up front.

As Daryl shook his head, all hope left my body. "I couldn't find him. I'm sorry."

"Wha? But how," I muttered.

"The rain makes it difficult to see tracks," Daryl hesitated before continuing, "The group doesn't wanna lose too much time staying in one place. I'm sorry, Sky," he apologized again.

The only ones standing by me were Carl and Daryl and their faces pretty much screamed pity at me. Everyone else was walking towards the cars again as if they were getting ready to leave again.

"But… we can't just leave him here … he …," I mumbled as I tried to address my concerns for Jacques to the entire group, yet the only people looking at me were Carl and Daryl. My mind was going over all the worst-case scenarios possible and all of them ended with the death of Jacques.

"He doesn't have any dry clothes, he might get pneumonia. He doesn't have any food, he might starve. He doesn't have any weapons, he might run into walkers or … bad people," I said softly, thinking back at the misfortunate events that happened during our stay with a former, less kinder group of survivors. Jacques and I hadn't been apart since this whole thing started. It had always been us against everyone else and now that he wasn't here anymore…

"We need to get him back," I yelled, suddenly finding my voice again. My yelling apparently did get the attention of the other group members who stopped moving around and formed a circle around me. Being in the spotlight had never been something I enjoyed, but I couldn't be bothered with feeling socially awkward right now. I was still trying to calm myself down by thinking of some sort of rational plan as my mind tried its best to think of a way to convince this group to stay behind and help me find Jacques.

"It's storming," Lori said, like that was a valid reason not to go after Jacques.

"Jeez-us, it's raining a bit. Fuck, I've lived in both Britain and Belgium and I can tell you this is an average summer day over there."

At the precise moment I finished my sentence, thunder struck.

"Okay, so maybe it's storming a bit," I admitted after seeing the sceptic look on Lori's face, "But surely that isn't going to stop us from going after him, right?" I tried to make eye contact with the rest of the group but no one was looking at me. In fact, it seemed they found their feet more interesting than me.

"Are you guys serious? We can't just leave him behind," I pleaded, not really understanding why everyone was so keen on abandoning someone they had been living with for two months, "He's one of us."

"Rick? What do you think," I asked him, hoping our leader would agree with me and the rest of the group would follow him in his decision.

"He's a drunk," Lori answered before Rick got the chance to say anything, "That's what he is. Nothing more."

Since no one let out cries of surprise, Lori stated something that everyone in our group already knew; Jacques was a drunk. I was surprised at this, I always thought Jacques had managed to keep his secret well-hidden and apart from Hershel and Daryl no one else knew about his addiction. Shocked by Lori's statement that Jacques was nothing more than a drunk, I felt a need to defend him.

"He wasn't always like that…"

"He's always cynic and unpleasant to hang out with," T-Dog interrupted me.

"Sure, he's a bit sarcastic but …"

"These past weeks he has done nothing else but sit in that shed of his and get drunk all the time," Lori interjected, "He has done nothing to help us. Not once."

"Well apparently all of you knew of his addiction and none of you tried to help him either. You all just chose to ignore it instead. That was real helpful too, Lori. What did you think was going to happen? He was just going to get better spontaneously? Did you think he was going to wake up one day and everything would be fine? He's sick, Lori," I yelled out the last part, " He needs other people to help him break his bad habit."

"Well, he never asked for our help –"

"No, of course he didn't," I interrupted Lori this time, "Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for him to admit he can't get through one day without drinking alcohol?"

"We're not going to run after him. We've already lost too many people."

"THEN GIVE ME A FUCKING GUN AND I'LL DO IT ALONE," I screamed, frustrated by how much time we had already lost standing here and debating the life of Jacques, "I'm better on my own, anyway. I don't need any of you," I mumbled, deep down knowing that was a lie.

"Skylar, you can't seriously consider going after him on your own," Rick try to reason with me.

"Oh, I'm not _considering_ it. Whether someone comes with me or not, I'm doing it either way."

"Give me a gun."

"It's raining," Rick stated.

"Rain is just condensed water falling out of the sky, Rick! The only thing that would stop me from going after him if it were fireballs dropping out of heaven. Now, give me a gun," I repeated my command.

"You had a fever just yesterday. You're still not okay, Skylar."

"Give. Me. A. Fucking. Gun," I said pronouncing every word clearly.

"You don't know the first thing about tracking someone," Rick said, still determined at not letting me leave the group.

"Give me a gun now or I'll leave without one. Is that you want? Huh," I asked, fully aware that I was playing the guilt-card on Rick. Being around Jacques, I had learned a thing or two about manipulating people. Of course, I wasn't going to walk into the woods without a gun in my hands, but bluffing with my life was the only leverage I had right now.

"T-Dog has them," Rick finally gave in.

"T-Dog, give me a gun," I turned towards him but T-Dog just shook his head, "We're not going to let you go out there on your own, girl."

I know his reluctance of giving me a gun had more to do with the fear of wasting a good gun, rather than him actually worrying about my safety. No one believed I was going to make it back and they didn't want to waste a gun.

"Please," I tried one more time.

"Skylar," a voice behind me spoke up, making me turn around.

"You can have mine," Robert said as he handed me over the AK47 Daryl and I had picked up at the supermarket a couple weeks back, "She'll give it back once she's reunited with us," Robert said loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Thanks," I muttered. At least someone believed I could make it back to the group alive.

"We're not going to sit here and wait on the both of you to return," Lori spoke up again.

"Then leave Lori! By all means, don't let the lives of two people you've been living with the past two months hold you back. For fuck's sake, if we were such a burden on you, you could've said something. But no worries, we'll be out of your sights for good. No need to feel guilty. You can all just pretend like none of this has happened and like Jacques and I were never a part of your group."

I grabbed my red plastic bag and Jacques' blue one out of the light green Hyundai, tossing both of them in a backpack, getting ready to leave the group behind in search of Jacques.

"This ain't right," Daryl finally said something.

_Finally someone with morals. _

"Y'all pulled the same shit with my brother, handcuffing him to that roof in Atlanta."

"What do you mean 'the same shit'," T-Dog asked.

"Leaving him behind because that was more convenient for y'all," Daryl said, looking straight into T-Dog's eyes as if the comment was meant for him personally.

"You weren't there, man. You have no idea what he was like," Glenn defended T-Dog.

"I have no idea what he was like? I lived with him for eighteen years, of course I knew what he was like. He was my fucking brother."

"He was high and shooting at walkers with a sniper rifle, attracting other geeks. What did you expect us to do to control him," T-Dog asked.

"You shouldn't have just left him there hanging on a fucking pole with no food, no water, nothing! You guys left Merle like he was some sort of worthless stray dog. You left him there to die alone."

Opening the truck of the Hyundai as well, he took out his crossbow as he continued to speak, "You're right I wasn't there in Atlanta, but I'm here now. And this isn't happening again. I won't allow it."

"I mean, what would Dale say if he heard y'all talk like this," Daryl mentioned a name I had never heard before, "Sure, Jack can be annoying at times but leaving a boy behind 'cause he's a little lost? What the hell, people?"

"Daryl," Rick began, "we can't just wait for you guys to return. We're sitting ducks out here."

"Leave one car then, I know where you guys are going. We'll catch up."

"What if we can't stay there, what if –"

"Then you'll leave us a note or road sign, I don't care. Just think of something," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Jack is like a brother to Sky. That makes him one of us, whether you like it or not. But this," Daryl pointed accusingly towards the rest of the group, "This whole 'every man for himself' attitude better be gone by the time we return. This ain't right," he mumbled again as he started to walk away from the group and towards the high trees that marked the beginning of the forest.

"Sky, ya coming or what," Daryl asked without looking behind him.

Still mesmerized by how Daryl had stuck up for Jacques and me, my legs found it difficult to move.

"Chop-chop, we ain't got all day. Wanna be in our new home by dinner time," he said, sounding very confident in finding Jacques quickly.

His radiating confidence helped me find the strength in my legs again. I had to pick up a rather quick pace to be able to catch up with Daryl. By the time I did finally caught up with him, Daryl was already in full 'hunter'-mode, investigating the diverse prints on the ground and scanning the area for any clues. Not that I complained, though. At least someone other than me was taking the disappearance of Jacques seriously. Together, Daryl and I walked into the woods with our minds set on finding the lost boy, preferably alive and not dead.

* * *

**A/N:**

Translation:

"Sois belle et tais-toi": Look pretty and shut up.

"Conard": Idiot/asshole

French…the most romantic and charming language! Haha

A big thank you to the new followers; how nice of you to join us! And an even bigger thank you to the reviewers!

**kaseym:** Thank you for complimenting my previous chapter :D. But turns out 'lying' is correct after all.

**Anonyknitter**: Thanks for your help. I checked out the site and you and **Savannah's Angels** were right; lying is correct. I honestly thought I had English grammar figured out… I was wrong. Thank you also for the encouragement.

**LoneWolfChild:** I'll most definitely will check out your story!

_Well, this was supposed to be a short chapter and now it's 5,000 words all of the sudden. Oh well :D...Next chapter is planned for sunday! And there will be a big surprise in it... Muhaha (that is supposed to sound like an evil laugh)_

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**Don't forget to say hi before you leave!**


	22. Fathers, Brothers and Sons

Sorry for the delay, but here is another chapter!

**ItMustBeEpic:** dankjewel voor je commentaar! Dat was jij toch die Nederlands kon, he? Anders lijk ik nu wel een idioot :p

**RhiannonMuir: **3? I always found three a very fascinating number, please tell me more... Just kidding, I suppose that happened by accident, didn't it?

**Previously on 'Do not read this':** The group left the secondary school to find another, more secure place to stay. Jacques mysteriously disappeared. Daryl stood up for Skylar and Jacques and left with Skylar to look for the lost boy...

Maybe it is important to mention that I've watched the third season of TWD this weekend (yes, all 16 episodes in 2 days, this was of course an important factor in my tardiness) and I just want to say that I have decided not to use anything from the third season's plot for this story. So people who still haven't seen the third season can just continue reading my story without getting spoilers ;)

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CHAPTER 22: FATHERS, BROTHERS AND SONS

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"Did ya think I enjoy spending time looking for people who get lost in the fucking woods. I mean, it's a forest in the state of Georgia for fuck's sake. Not a fucking labyrinth."

Now, I'm not a people person, not at all even, but I could tell that Daryl was getting irritated because that was a lot of '_fucking'_ in a short amount of time, even for him. He was mad at me for losing Jacques. He was mad at me for not being very helpful. He was mad at me for the bad weather. He was mad at me for the rain turning the ground into liquid which made it difficult to see any tracks. Basically he was mad at me for even breathing.

"Then why did you even bother speaking up for Jacques to the group like that? Why did you even bother saying anything at all," I said to him, making him turn around with a look on his face that I could only describe as anger. And it did not came as a complete surprise that all of his anger was directed at me.

"I said sumthin' because ya were about to walk in to the woods on a _fucking _suicide mission," he said as he poked my right shoulder with his index finger. And even though I hate to admit it, due to the slippery mud underneath my feet and Daryl's strength, I was having trouble not falling down from his pushing.

"A suicide mission," I scoffed as I grabbed his arm to steady myself.

"Yes, Sky, a _fucking_ suicide mission," he repeated his harsh words as he flinched his arm away from my touch, making me fall down on my knees into the mud.

"You know, I can manage just fine on my own," I realized as I said the words that I sounded like one of those fourteen-yearolds on Maury, claiming they can do _whatever the hell they want_.

"Is that right? Little miss independent, you can do it all by yourself, can't ya," he asked, his eyes daring me to challenge him with a clever comeback. I was hoping he would at least give me a hand to help me get up again but after claiming my independence to Daryl, I had to prove my point. After a struggle of about a minute or so I was standing back onto my two feet and gave Daryl a smug smile accompanied by a look that said 'your move'.

Daryl feeling up for the challenge, didn't waste any time undermining yet again my capabilities. "Do ya even know how to shoot that gun," he asked, pointing at the AK47 hanging on my back.

"Of course I know how to shoot a gun," I said, rolling my eyes at him.

"That ain't just some gun, girl. It's a AK47. Ya ever even shot an automatic gun like that?"

"No, but Jacques taught me how to shoot a gun and he said that –"

"Oh, well, then if Jack said it, I guess it's alright then," he interrupted me rudely. I didn't get why he was so upset about this. Just as I was about to make a cynic remark about Daryl being on his period, he opened his mouth and gave me a painful look, "You can't just make people care about you and then leave," he yelled so hard in my face, I actually got worried it might attract walkers, "Ya selfish, inconsiderate bitch," he spat the insult in my face.

"That's twice in two days' time you've called me a bitch," I said as my teeth started to chattering uncontrollably due to the cold rain hitting the skin on my forehead.

"Yeah? Well, I'm gonna keep doing it if ya going keep acting like one," he grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me underneath a big oak tree, so we would at least not get as wet anymore. Not that it would really help us to feel any less cold, given that our clothing was already completely drenched.

"The others obviously didn't give two pennies about Jacques and me, if they were so keen on giving him up," he shook his head disappointedly at me before turning around and giving me his back to talk to, "Daryl, they gave me no choice, you know that. It's like you said, they pulled the same shit with your brother," I continued to reason with him as he started to dig through his backpack in search of something edible.

"Can ya blame them for not wanting to look for Jack? It's like Barack Obama said," he referred to T-Dog before turning back around to look me in the eyes, "The guy is a first-class asshole. Nothin' can be done about it."

"He wasn't always –"

"… like that," he finished my sentence, "Yeah, so you keep saying. Well, guess what, Sky," Daryl said bitterly as he handed me the can of sweet peaches, "People change. Especially when the dead start walking."

And with that statement Daryl considered this discussion closed. I however could not let it just end like that. By the time I heard the hunter open his own can of pears, I had already lined up my next question for him.

"Then why did you come with me if you think he's nothing more than just an worthless asshole," I asked.

"That ain't what I said, you're twisting my words," he said, putting a piece of pear in his mouth.

"That might not be what you said, but that definitely is what you implied," I replied before eating a peach.

He shook his head disapprovingly, before muttering something about 'women and their wicked ways'.

"Didn't ya hear what I told the group. It ain't right to just leave people behind because it's more convenient. Even if the guy does hate me, he clearly means something to you so…," he didn't finish his sentence, "Well, here I am!" he raised his voice, holding out his arms as the pouring rain streamed down his hands, "Ya can consider it to be my good deed of the year."

"He doesn't hate you, you know," I said softly, but loud enough for Daryl to hear, "Jacques really doesn't hate you."

"You might wanna rethink that. Because the boy clearly doesn't love me. He has been on my ass since day one."

"That's not because he hates you. He_ envies_ you."

"What," he asked, not understanding what I was trying to say.

"Jacques used to be very popular with girls and people. He was very liked. But now he can't even get that girl Justine to look at him twice because she's too focused on you, Daryl. And he doesn't get what other people see in you, how you got them trust you so blindly."

"Puff, them folks didn't trust me blindly from the start. I already told ya before; I had to earn their respect."

"Yeah, I know but Jacques doesn't see it that way. All he sees is a uneducated hick who gets to be the wingman of our leader – if you don't mind me putting it so harshly."

He shrugged his shoulders in indifference.

"Jacques never got to finish college and now has a worthless second bachelor degree. Did you know he wanted to be pharmacist?"

"I don't think I ever had a sensible conversation with that boy. Least of all a friendly chat about our past future plans, no," he replied mockingly.

"Jacques' uncle died of aids when he was still in secondary school and he wanted to create some sort of medicine that could help prolong the lives of aids patients even more that current medicine can."

"That day we met, when Jacques made that comment about you having aids, I was so shocked that he could make a joke that tasteless, knowing what his uncle had gone through."

"Like I said, people change."

"But he could've done it, you know. He could've been really good at helping other people. He has an IQ of 162 and he _was_ really motivated to succeed at life. But now he just can't help but feel so useless… like he doesn't mean anything anymore. The day I asked him to learn me how to shoot a gun was the happiest he had been in a long time because he finally felt like he had a purpose again. So what, he has to drink to get through the day. If that is what he needs to make life bearable for him…"

"Blah-blah-blah… All I hear is a boy who feels bad for himself," he commented rather harshly.

"Well, not everyone can be as 'okay' with this apocalypse happening as you, Daryl. It's all so overwhelming for him. He has lost everything, his family, his future, even himself, but then when he looks at you… you seem so fine with how things are nowadays. You seem to be doing an excellent job with trying to survive like you were born doing it or something. And that's why he envies you. Because regardless of all the chances and privileges Jacques had been given at birth, you still beat him at life."

"And Daryl? I hope you do realize that before the dead start roaming the earth, all those people in our group wouldn't have cared one bit about us. If anything we were ridiculed by people like them. You were called redneck, hick, hillbilly and what not. And I …"

"What about you," he asked, getting a bit annoyed at the bold statements I was making. But according to me it was the ugly truth that Daryl had to hear, whether he wanted it or not.

"I was considered a burden to society. I had no degree, no family, no property… Nothing but debts to pay off. I didn't even manage to get a Green Card so I worked illegally in the US," I admitted, "What do you think would have happened if my car would been pulled over by Officer Grimes and he'd have asked to see my passport, huh? He'd have seen that my visa had been long expired and he'd have send my ass on the first plane to Heathrow airport. Or do you really believe he'd have given me a chance to explain myself," I asked him, not really expecting him to answer my rhetorical question.

"Because I know for a fact that he wouldn't have. That 'each man for himself'-mentality you mentioned to the group earlier isn't just another unfortunate consequence of the zombie-apocalypse. Oh, no… it has been in existence for a much longer time."

"I thought you'd gone to college," he stated, making me sigh deeply. Of all the stuff I had said during my rant, that was the one thing he had remembered.

"No, I didn't go to college."

"Why not? Ya sound smart."

"I didn't have the money to go to college." '_Nor did I have a primary school or secondary school degree which are required. Not forgetting the fact that I even couldn't fill in my application form,' _my mind added.

"What did you do then?"

"I worked in a British pub in the centre of Atlanta. That's where I met Jacques. He reminded me so much of my brother, I just had to talk to him."

"Ya do realize Jack can't replace your real brother, don't ya?"

"Yeah. I didn't realize that at first, but I do now," I responded honestly.

"What was your brother's name? You never told me."

"Norman," I let the name linger on my tongue after having it not said for so long, "His name was Norman."

"Norman," he repeated the name as a ghost of a smile made the corners of his lips slightly turn up.

"Yeah, I don't know either. My parents were shit at picking names. My father's mom was from Normandy and …"

"Norman means northerners. It's the name of the Scandinavian fighters who conquered Northern France. And after the Normans had settled down in that region, it was named Normandy. Norman is the name of conquerors."

"How do you know all that?"

I thought that was a really easy question for him to answer; maybe he had read the explanation of the name somewhere, maybe he once had a friend named Norman who had explained to him; maybe he had a before unmentioned fascination for historian battles. But I knew Daryl's answer to my question would be more complicated than that after seeing diverse emotions being displayed on his otherwise always calm face. Minutes went by, during which various thinking wrinkles and frowns danced on his wet forehead as he internally debated whether or not he should answer my question.

"I had a boy named Norman."

"You _had_ a son," I asked, feeling a wave of sadness overcome me after noticing how he had said it in the past tense.

He nodded his head slowly as he nervously played with the empty can in his hand, "Yeah, I had a son."

I was waiting for him to explain or tell me something about him, but it was obvious Daryl wasn't just going to talk about his dead son without getting a little gentle push in the back.

"What happened?"

"Norman died when he was only three months old. He euh," he hesitated again, "he got really sick after he was born. Turns out I'm the carrier of some sort of genetic disease. It gets passed on from man to man. Sometimes the disease skips a generation, sometimes is doesn't. Guess, Norman was just real unlucky." He had said it in such a soft and calm matter that. But I knew better to think he was just as composed as his pokerface showed itself to be because his calm words contradicted with the act of powerfully squeezing the can flat in his palms in anger.

"The doctors couldn't do much about it. Not with my health care insurance and pay check, anyway," he said, scratching his head.

"What about his mother?"

"His mom and I," he sighed deeply before continuing, "we hadn't been dating real long and she got upset after she found out she was having my child. Abortion isn't legal in Georgia so I said I'd take care of him. I didn't want to give him up for adoption. He was a little Dixon, and Dixons take care of their own, so I took the responsibility. After she gave birth to him, she let the nurse call me to pick him up at the hospital. I never saw her again. She knew where I lived and had my phone number and I had always hoped she'd come visit someday. I realize now how naïve I had been. After all, the nurse at the hospital had told me she never even held him after giving birth. I guess, ya can't force someone to be a mom if she don't wanna," he said with a very sad and disappointed tone.

"After he died, I tried to contact her and left her several messages but she didn't bother to show up at his funeral. Not a lot of people did. Not that I can blame them. After all, the Dixon family wasn't particularly popular in the neighbourhood with my brother pullin' all sort of shenanigans. And not a lot of people knew Norman even existed. He was just three months old and was in the hospital almost constantly. My brother didn't even got the chance to meet him 'cause he was in jail at the time," he said, his hand rubbing the skin of his neck.

I had no idea what to say or do that would be this better for him. Should I say something like 'it's okay' while patting him on the shoulder? Or should I keep my mouth shut and let him finish his monologue? I decided to go with the latter. After all, it wasn't every day that Daryl decided to tell something personal about himself to me.

"He would've been about Carl's age, now. I just thought it was funny, naming him 'Norman' even though he was born in the South. I had hoped the name would bring him more luck than my name had brought me and that it would somehow break the cycle of being a typical Dixon redneck."

"Norman is a good name," Daryl concluded, "It stands out, just like 'Skylar'."

"Daryl is a nice name, too," I commented, not really knowing what else to say.

"Nah. It's too redneck. Naming your child Daryl, that's like ensuring he'll have a mullet haircut by the time he's five," he said in a way that made it sound like that had been the case with him.

"Did you have one?"

"Huh," he muttered before shaking his head more in disbelief than in actual denial, "Maybe."

"Oh God, you totally did! That's adorable," I said, vividly imagining a little Daryl Dixon hopping around with long ponytail at the back of his head.

"It wasn't supposed to look _adorable_," he said, visibly embarrassed by his former haircut and my liberal use of the word 'adorable', "It was supposed to look cool. Besides, I only had one because my brother had it. And my brother was a badass in a past life, so…," he shrugged his shoulders again.

As I tried my best to contain laughter at how he had stated how much of a 'badass' his brother used to be, I could not help but find the whole mullet-thing extremely cute. I mean, the fact that Daryl got a mullet out of admiration of his brother, makes it even more adorable. But it was probably for the better not to use words like 'adorable' and 'cute' to describe the man sitting in front of me.

"What made you decide to cut the _badass_ hairstyle," I asked, emphasising the word badass.

"Oh, that was right after my father had yelled _'Get your ass to the barber's shop and tell him you're sick of lookin' like an asshole!_' at me."

"Your father called you an asshole when you were little," I asked, not realizing before how dysfunctional Daryl's family really was.

"Puff," Daryl shrugged off the bad memory with a shake of his shoulders, "My old man called me worse than that."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you decided to cut it. I like your hair the way it is now," I let the words tumble out my mouth before I could stop it.

"Ya like my hair," he asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, it complements," I hesitated for a moment there, not being entirely sure if I should say 'your incredible symmetrical face' without making him want to run away from me, thinking I was some crazy stalker. So I went with the following instead, "your cheekbones," which sounded slightly less stalkery.

Unlike normal people, who would say thank you after being giving a compliment even if it was such a weird one as mine, Daryl remained silent and stared intensely at me. '_Yes, Daryl still isn't good at accepting compliments. Great, now I've made things awkward again,' _my mind scolded myself.

The silence between the both of us did not last long, however as a high-pitched scream filled the cold air surrounding us. Feeling immediately alarmed by the crying voice, I got up, grabbed the AK47 and started running into the direction of the scream.

"Sky, shit! No," I heard Daryl yell after me as he was still trying to get up and grab his crossbow, but I was too quick for him and had already vanished through the trees.

"Sky, let me walk in front!" Identifying with the pain of whoever it was that was screaming, I sped up my pace of running, silently praying that it was not Jacques. However cruel and twisted my thoughts were, at that moment I wished that the suffering person was anyone other than Jacques.

"Skylar," Daryl's tone sounded more desperate and strict now, but I still wasn't able to stop running even though I could feel the threatening danger of the scream still echoing through the trees.

Daryl tackled me, making the both of us fall down on the hard and muddy ground. I fell down face first, resulting in it to be covered in a not so fashionable mud-mask. "Da fuck, Daryl," I yelled while trying to get the mud out of my eyesight so I could give my tackler what I hoped to be a very angry stare in the eyes. Unfortunately for me, trying to get the mud out of my eyes was not as easy as I thought it would it be, given that my fingers were covered in mud as well. If anything, it just made matters worse.

Not at all understanding why Daryl was sabotaging me, I tried to get up once more but was yet again stopped by his strong arms pulling me down into the mud. "No, stop it," Daryl scolded. This time he pushed me down, sending me backwards, meaning that now not only my front was covered in mud, but also my back.

"It could be a walker. It could be an animal. It could be a trap. It could be ANYTHING or ANYONE other than Jack," he said, trying to make eye contact with me, but I was too focused on getting to whoever or whatever it was that was screaming to look Daryl in the eyes.

"Hey, look at me," he said with a more soothing voice than before as he swept the dirt from my eyes and cheeks with his thumbs. A few seconds of Daryl gazing at my lips before his eyes found mine and he began to speak again, "There's only two of us and I need you to …"

Hearing that same voice scream like it was calling out to me again, made me push Daryl in the chest in a desperate attempt of getting him off me.

"Calm da fuck down," he yelled as he pushed my arms off of him and held both my wrists above my head.

"Ya need to calm down," he repeated sternly, "and let me walk up front." His eyes scanned over my face to see if I was paying attention to what he was saying, "Got it?"

As I let his words sink in, I nodded weakly, "Got it." Aside from my unwillingness to give in to Daryl's command, it seemed foolish to keep fighting him. Especially with the feeling of his entire body weight on mine, I realized how easy it was for him to control me.

I know I didn't sound very convincing, yet Daryl decided to let it go and lifted himself off of me.

"Okay, this is the plan; you walk behind me and you listen to EVERYTHING I tell ya to do. _Ca-peesh_," he asked as he held out his arms for me.

"Yeah, I got it," I repeated slightly annoyed at his dictatorial tone. But given the seriousness of the current situation I decided to not make a big deal out of Daryl's sense of protectiveness.

"Ya know, I'm just tryin' to do the right thing here," he reasoned with me while his hands made a closing gesture, silently encouraging me to let him pull me up.

"I know," I replied as I accepted his weirdly constructed apology and put my hands in his, allowing him to pull me off the wet ground.

We both looked to our right as the screaming began again, only it sounded way more faint than before.

"Ya ready for this," he asked as he looked away from the direction of the shrieking sound and back at my face, looking for any indication of doubt.

I lifted my arm, motioning him to go first as I let out a stereotypical 'ladies first'-joke with a shaky voice. Noticing my fear for what was yet to come, Daryl gave me an encouraging nod before taking his crossbow off his back and holding it strongly in both hands, preparing himself for whatever or whoever was out there in the woods. As we started to run closer to the crying source and as the screaming became louder and louder I suddenly felt relieved that Daryl had decided to walk up front.

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**A/N:** I know, I know, I know … what a bitch way of ending a chapter.

So yes, I gave Daryl a bit more of a back story, not sure how everyone is going to feel about that... please let me now.

I hope you guys noticed how arrogant and unknowing Skylar was in the first part of the story. Clearly, Daryl cares for her, I mean;"You can't just make people care about you and then leave", yet she doesn't pick up the slightest hint... What is to be done about that?

Remember how I promised something in the A/N of the previous chapter, I had to delay it one more chapter because this one was getting too long again. So next time; something is about to go down.

**So you guys think the screaming person is Jacques? If it is indeed him, do you guys want him to die?** Like I said before I get influenced by reviews. I can't deal with peer pressure even if it's online _ I'm a wimp like that.

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**Don't forget to say hi before you leave, chief.**

(OMG that rhymes, it's 1 a.m. and I'm turning into a poet)


	23. The Encounter

Thank you for the lovely reviews, that really motivated me to write this chapter faster. Thank you **AffairWithACrossbow, ItMustBeEpic **and** RhiannonMuir** (Ah, I already thought it was supposed to be something like that)

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CHAPTER 23: THE ENCOUNTER

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Trying my best not to slip in the mud again, I ran as fast as I could behind Daryl, who once in a while looked behind him to check if I was still following him. The screaming had stopped a while ago, but Daryl seemed to have an idea where the yelling had come from because he kept up a fast pace in northern direction.

The loud noise of thunder sounded throughout the entire forest just at the moment Daryl and I reached a clearing. At any other moment in my life I would have find the open field with fresh spring flowers intriguing and even beautiful, but now I was too upset by what I saw in front of me to even look at the beauty surrounding me. Daryl held his arms out in front of me, so I wouldn't move any further on to the clearing. Not that this was really necessary because I was finding it difficult to feel anything other than my heart pounding heavily in my chest at the sight of Jacques' body smeared in blood. His blood.

His ankle in particular seemed to be completely nibbled on. Only Jacques had not been bitten by a walker, but by a massive dog. How did I know this? Well, Jacques' attacker was still lying next to him with the obvious evidence of still wet blood on his fur and teeth. The hound looked up at the light of thunder striking before letting out a big yawn, not at all caring about the boy lying underneath him.

"I believe this is a good time to mention that dogs terrify me," I said with a shaky voice, looking at the hound lying down by Jacques' body, "Especially big ones."

Not seeing a lot of movement on Jacques' part, I had to ask a question of which I feared the answer.

"Do you think he's dead," I asked Daryl, not being able to say Jacques' name and 'dead' in the same sentence.

"No, the boy is still breathing," he softly said to me, pointing towards Jacques' chest which was barely moving, but still moving.

"We need to do something quickly!" My voice no longer able to hide the fact that I was freaking out.

"Shh, I'm thinking," he shushed me, looking at the big dog.

Unfortunately for us the hound had noticed our presence and stood up, his paws standing steady in the mud. And although the dog barked menacingly at Daryl and me, it did not move one inch and waited close by Jacques as if someone had told him to stayed put, no matter what.

Daryl motioned one of his hand leftwards, directing me to go to the left. As I did this, much to my dismay, the dog's eyes followed my movement and lost interest in Daryl, who held out his crossbow and took aim. Fully trusting Daryl's eye for precision I had expected this nightmare to be over from the moment I heard the arrow flying through the air. A strong storming wind, however had sabotaged the direction of flying arrow which now landed in the mud, right next to the dog's paws. The hound, feeling threatened by Daryl now, started to move closer to him. But very slowly and unsurely, step by step, as if it was breaking a promise by stepping away from Jacques' body. Daryl, estimating the distance between himself and the dog, realized very well that he would not be able to reload his crossbow quickly enough and decided to go with a different method. Daryl, who remained visibly calm even though the beast was howling and growling at him, unbuckled his belt and whipped it on the wet ground.

As Daryl's whipping had managed to capture the full attention of the beast, I made my way over to Jacques' body to see what damage the dog had done to him.

When I bend down next to him, I immediately checked his pulse as I tried not to look too much at the blood pouring out of his leg. His heart was still beating, but its pace was slowing down gradually. Letting go off his neck and turning his face towards me, I could see it was covered in scratches, which were most likely the result of putting up a fight with the hound. But to my surprise Jacques also had two black eyes, making his eye sockets turn into a deep purple-blue colour. Now, I don't know a lot about dogs, but I know for a fact that dogs don't suckerpunch people in the face. Not once and sure as hell not twice.

_"Shut da fuck up, Lucifer!"_

A voice louder than the thunderstorm echoed through the woods making the hound stop its barking and let out a 'kaïet' in despair.

A dark figure appeared at the top of the hill. "Lookie 'ere, if it ain't Daryl Dixon strolling around in the woods with a cute girl. Never thought I'd see the day," the shadow spoke with a sense of misplaced humour.

"You know him," I asked Daryl quietly.

A barely visible nod made Daryl's long hair shift in front of his eyes, covering the cheekbones I had been praising before.

As a couple rays of sunshine managed to sweep through the clouds, I was able to take a good look at the stranger standing above us. My eyes slowly travelled upwards from the stranger's feet to the blue overalls that covered his legs, to the hunting rifle at his side, to his dirty tank top and finally rested on the stranger's face. A feeling of shock made me mutter out another French swearword for the stranger looked just like Daryl.

As if trying to find the seven differences between two almost identical pictures, my head whipped back and forth between Daryl's and the stranger's face like I was watching a game of intense tennis playing. But there were no seven visible differences, in fact I could only see resemblances between them. They shared the same set of blue eyes, the same cheekbones and the same incredible, symmetrical face.

In fact the only difference in looks between Daryl and the stranger before us was their standing posture. Daryl was visibly nervous and kept shifting his weight from his right to his left leg whereas the stranger was casually leaning against a tree and lighting up a cigarette as if this was a normal every day encounter in the middle of the woods. The undeniable resemble in looks suggested the man standing before us had to be Daryl's infamous brother Merle Dixon, Glenn had warned me about a couple weeks back. Only Glenn had forgot to mention Daryl and Merle were in fact twin brothers.

"Is that your brother Merle," I asked, fully expecting him to answer the question affirmatively.

But just as I began to wonder why Daryl was not hugging his brother and giving him the warm welcome one might expect after being separated after so long, Daryl came to stand in front of me as if to shield me from his doppelgänger. The slight shake of Daryl's head did not only leave me in a state of complete confusion, but also left a question on the tip of my tongue unanswered. _Then who the hell is he?_

"That's my auntie's son Mac," Daryl said before I even got the chance to ask.

I glanced one more time at the man in overalls and the vile beast standing next to him. Breaking away from his intense gaze for only a second, I could not help but look at the outlines of his thin lips. Slightly turned up at the corners with a sharp cupids bow, with a small mole on the left top. He had the same undeniable handsome smile Daryl had, only his smile was so much more nasty – malicious even.

Even more so, he looked as though he was on the verge of letting a sinister smirk show on his face. Clearly not being able to resist to urge, 'Mac' smiled smugly, revealing his black and yellow teeth, before the sound of a short chuckle escaped his lips. Never before did I think I could ever describe someone's chuckling as evil, but really… there was no other word.

After seeing the devil-named hound growling at me while Jacques' blood dripped from its mouth and its owner continued to smile menacingly at me, I could only come to one conclusion.

_This man is my walking nightmare._

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**A/N:**

At the end, I was referring to the dream Skylar had in chapter 20 'Nocturne'.

So I know there's probably a part of you thinking 'Who the hell is Mac?'

Mac is someone Norman Reedus played as well in the film called 'Red Canyon', hence why Mac and Daryl look so alike. Mac is basically a meth-cooking sex addict who rapes and kills people for fun. And he comes from a family in which incest was regularly committed.. so yeah, this story is definitely getting more sinister from this point.

For those who have seen Red canyon... **What you think about me introducing Mac in the story? Is it good?**

So this story has officially become a crossover. Mac, however is the only character from that movie I will let into this story. At first I actually thought about bringing in Archie (from 'Tough Luck', also played by NR), but Archie is just too nice...

For those who are interested in other Mac fanfic's; here are a couple I like ;

"A Survivor's Game" of cc4bbc2003 (crossover with criminal minds)

"Sweet Stockholm" of macgirlanon (really good)

"The Prey Between Two Predators" of walter-needz-luv-2 (also a WD-Red Canyon crossover. Only 1 chapter up, but it looks promising)

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Anyway, leave your thoughts in the comment-section down below ;). Cheers.


	24. There's two of them

**A/N: **

20 years later, she uploads!

Hello there, stranger! Been a long time, hasn't it?

So I haven't uploaded in a while… but before you start throwing tomatoes at me, please hear me out. I didn't upload anything for so long because I was on a construction camp in Central-America, building a medical centre for TB patients as a volunteer. As you can tell my absence on was all for a good cause… but the wait is over… here is a chapter!

**Last time on 'Do not read this':**

Daryl and Skylar went to look for Jacques who mysteriously disappeared. After following the piercing sound of a scream echoing through the woods, they find that Jacques has been bitten by a hound. This massive dog belongs to none other than a long-forgotten family member of Daryl's, namely Mac. Daryl introduces Mac to Skylar as his cousin, but due to the undeniable resemblance in looks, Skylar feels that there is more to this family connection than Daryl makes out to be…

_What a bitch cliff-hanger, sorry I left you guys hanging there._

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**CHAPTER 24: THERE'S TWO OF THEM**

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God is a sadist. Or a lousy comedian. One of the two…Or maybe both, I'm not sure yet.

_If_ He exists, at least. Being raised by a physics professor myself, whose Holy Book was none other than Darwins' _On the Origin of Species_ and who was only familiar with the quest of the Higgs particle, not the one of the Holy Grail. Surely you must understand that this defined atmosphere does not leave a lot of room for imagination, let alone any imagination of a religious kind.

If He _does_ exist, however, He is an Asshole – with a respectable capital, of course. I mean, forgetting about all the famine, world wars and genocides for a second, let's focus on how my life has been so far. Not a lot of highlights, I'm afraid. I'll save the gruesome details of my life for a different chapter of my story, but for now let's just say that God would be more likely be the villain in my story than an actual life-saving hero. Why? Because villains do nothing but watch the chaos they have created. Because if there is a God that I can assure that not once in my life has he made me aware of his existence. Not once did I have a lucky coincidence in my life when I thought 'Mhm, maybe there's a God after all'. So either he doesn't exist and it's every man for himself or he does exist and he's the villain who likes to watch people be eaten alive.

Not that there's anything wrong with a good old-fashioned villain. Quite honestly, I really get the appeal. After all, villains are what makes a good story wickedly interesting. They are the ones that do the most outrageous things, leaving you in an indecisive state of not knowing whether to laugh hysterically or to cry out in despair.

I was left in that exact state of confusion now, looking from this 'Mac' guy back to Daryl, thinking that this whole lookalike thing has to be some kind of sick joke. I was still waiting for a better explanation from Daryl but he had only introduced the man as his cousin Mac, giving me nothing else to go on.

The rain had stopped pouring down on the four of us, but in the sky I could see other clouds darkening the sky, promising another shower with lightning bolts on our heads if we didn't shelter somewhere quickly. Crouching down next to Jacques' unconscious body, I found it impossible to stop eyeing at Daryl and his doppelgänger who were so caught up in each other that they didn't seem to notice me nor Jacques. I found the whole thing intriguing, thinking that at any second now, a warlock would jump out of the bushes and scream 'it's magic', because quite frankly that explanation would make more sense to me than that weak one Daryl had given me.

"There's two of them," Jacques' weak voiced my inner thoughts at the same time rain started to beat down like hammers once again.

Surprised at his whimpering, I looked down at the wounded boy, only to see that Jacques had lost consciousness again.

_There's two of them. _

_There's two of them and they are both standing there, staring at each other, doing absolutely nothing to help me._

"Daryl," I merely pleaded, but it was enough for him to end his staring contest with Mac and bring his eyes on me and the boy lying on the wet grass. Quicker than lager turns to piss, Daryl squatted down next to me and took in the damage that had been done to Jacques.

In vain I hoped that the rain would cover the tears streaming down my cheeks and that Daryl wouldn't notice the trace of shivering fear running all over my body. But he knew. Daryl always knew. That man might have had some issues communicating with people, he had no problem reading their body language, mine being no exception to the rule.

"Go sit under the trees," he hoarsely commanded. I didn't even question Daryl's order. I knew very well I wasn't in any state to properly help Jacques, "And don't talk to Mac," he said with a stern tone to his voice, "I mean it," he added what his eyes already told me, "_Do not_ talk to him."

"Go," he ordered once again, nodding his head towards the treeline farthest away from Mac but still within his own eyesight.

Most women would mind being bossed around like that. And under normal circumstances I would be one of those women. But I knew very well that Daryl only had mine and Jacques' best interest in mind. And quite frankly, I liked that Daryl had taken over from me. It was nice for once, not being the one taking care of Jacques.

Looking at Daryl's back hunched over Jacques' body, I could only think about how much that man had turned me into a walking cliché. Day and night I had been thinking about him and his sneaky ways. Thinking how on earth he had managed to crawl under my skin, giving me weird dreams during the night and even weirder stares during the day when he thought I didn't see it. Well, I didn't actually see him stare at me, but I felt it, you know. I could feel the intensity of Daryl's stares burning holes in my back or on the side of my face. But the problem was that I didn't want to turn around and look Daryl in the eye, catching him the act of drooping because I knew that if I did that once, he would stop staring all together. The man was shy like that and I accepted him for what he was. So far our relationship had only come this far and at this moment I was content with that. But I knew that there was going to be a time when I was going to want more than just a few awkward stares and shared jokes. I knew that someday I was going to want a happy ending with Daryl.

It seemed that I was quite in love with him. I didn't even remember how that had happened, nor could I recall the exact moment it had happened. I just knew it had.

It's strange… all these weird and awkward feelings that somehow make me want to rise early in the morning and sing in the shower.

I denied at first, obviously. I'm very good at denying myself things I want. But no matter how much I made myself busy, Daryl Dixon still popped into my mind. Day and night I would think of him, like the night before when I had that incredibly weird nightmare about him turning into a wolf. At least, I had assumed it was Daryl I had been dreaming about. But now seeing his lookalike grinning from across the small field at me, more specifically at my hands drenched in Jacques' blood, I suddenly wasn't so sure anymore. Is it possible to dream about someone you've never met before? Is there such a thing as dreaming about the future?

Losing my train of thought by the cracking sound of branches behind me, I turned around only to find that monster of a dog standing right there, growling at me.

Luckily I saw Mac running towards me, saving me from the ordeal of being torn apart by the dog.

Trying his best to hold the animal back, Mac started blurting out offending commands, "Lucifer, shuddafuckup! Ya dumb piece of shit."

A suffocating feeling of fear came over me as 'Lucifer' started snapping in the air, making biting gestures at me. Mac seemed to struggle keeping the dog under control as he grabbed it by the neck and threw a rope around it.

"You're scaring her," Mac grabbed the dog by the make-shift collar and tugged it viciously.

The dog however, seemed to be very keen on the idea of hurting me as it would not stop coming at me. Finally Mac gave the dog a hard hit in the head, making it stop its threatening movements, before he turned his gaze on me once again. I knew very well that at that moment I was at Mac's mercy knowing that he would only have to say the word and I'd be eaten by the beast.

Feeling smug about the effect his staring and his ugly pet had on me, Mac couldn't help but ask me about my state of mind. "You doing okay there, Freckles?"

The crows' feet circling his eyes and the turn-up of his lips told me the lack of genuineness that lied behind his question. He liked that he was scaring me. He _enjoyed_ my fear.

Fighting the urge of giving the man in overalls an one-finger salute for calling me 'Freckles', I responded "Don't call me that," in a soft and careful manner as I did my best to remain calm. Only the voice I had intended to sound composed ended up sounding shaken and scared instead.

"I'd call you by your name if you'd tell me what it was," Mac replied quickly, tossing his still burning cigarette onto his massive dog who surprisingly enough did not let out a cry in pain as if it was accustomed to being used as a breathing ashtray.

"But you're not going to tell me, are you," Mac asked as he closed the distance between me and him to such an extent that I could feel his smoky breath dancing on my cheek. Feeling rather intimated by Mac's close presence, yet reluctant to call Daryl over to help me out of this uncomfortable position, I pushed Mac in the shoulders to create some distance between me and him. Mac, however, only seemed to enjoy the effect he was having on me and took another step closer.

"…Skylar," he whispered mockingly in my left ear.

My eyes widened at hearing my name escape the stranger's lips as my mind tried to figure out how on earth he could have discovered it in the first place.

"Your boyfriend told me," Mac answered my unvoiced question as he motioned his head in the direction of the unconscious Jacques before adding another sarcastic remark, "We had a friendly chat."

"Jacques is my brother, NOT my boyfriend," I quickly corrected Mac without being sure from where exactly that sudden need of accuracy came. I mean who cares what Mac thinks, right?

"That's weird. He don't look like ya," Mac said, "He don't look like ya one bit," he repeated as his blue eyes scanned my figure from tip to toe, only briefly pausing at my in mud-covered breasts.

Swallowing hard at how my voyeur was unashamedly checking me out, I looked in the direction of Daryl for help. Unfortunately, the hunter was rather busy, trying to help someone else in a more life-threatening situation than me.

"Jacques would never tell you something about me. You've beaten it out of him," I yelled my accusation at the top of my lungs while pointing at the human piñata laying on the floor, hoping that my loud voice would attract Daryl my way and not walkers.

"Oh please," Mac responded with a sigh and a tone much too calm for my liking, "The boy fell down."

"What? He has two black eyes. Did he fall down on his face twice," I asked the man accusingly whilst strongly poking him twice in the stomach. Mac, however, did not seem remotely affected by my vicious poking. It even looked like I was on the receiving end of the pain as I felt my pointing finger tingle, making me wonder what muscles Mac was hiding underneath that overall of his.

"Guess it took him awhile to find the ground," he shrugged off my indirect accusation with a joke while lighting another cigarette. His total indifference and cocky attitude made me open my mouth in utter shock, "What do you expect me to say, Freckles? Gravity is a bitch," he continued to speak with a low and casual tone before exhaling the smoke right into my open mouth.

Too late did I realize that Mac was in fact not smoking just tobacco, but rather a substance of a more illegal kind. The man had now successfully blown weed up my nose, making tears appear in my eyes and clouds in my mind. As the fogginess of the weed overwhelmed me, I found it difficult to focus on anything other than his mouth, lingering close by mine. After examining the different shades of yellow on his teeth and the stubbly beginnings of a moustache, I slowly worked my way up his face before halting my gaze on his eyes. My gaping was returned by a hypnotic stare on his part, which made my knees weaken and my heart rate pick up at an almost exhilarating pace.

His eyes open, yet unapproachable reminded me of a certain someone. My mind went back in time, recalling certain memories of Daryl and mine first meeting. How I was tied up to a chair and how he and Rick were questioning me. Daryl's electric blue eyes had calmed me back then. And even though, Mac's eyes had the exact same shade of blue in them, they certainly did not have a calming effect. If anything, it only seemed that the more I gazed in them, the . But somehow I was doomed to keep gazing in the eyes filled with the promise of terror. There was something off about his eyes, like his dilated pupils were showing me a deeper hidden and even darker side of him. It seemed that the electric blue eyes that I had once considered a well filled with the sweetest of dreams, showed now to be a source of the worst of nightmares.

A spark of electricity ignited the air around us. Seconds later, I could hear the thunder marching through the woods. Yet the mere sound of Mother Nature's anger could not distract me from this man, nor could a single movement in the woods drag my eyes away from his. I was rendered speechless and somehow strangely paralysed underneath Mac's dead stare. It wasn't until I was viciously pulled away by Daryl that I finally managed to focus on the present.

"What did I tell ya? I don't want you talking to him," Daryl's fingers clenched sternly around my arm as he used a tone with me which he had never used before.

Still finding myself in a state of speechlessness, I could only manage to show a sturdy nod but further speak not a single word. The shake of my head brought my eyes once again on the hound and his master, sheltering under an oak tree from the rain.

"Sky," A distant but all too familiar voice asked.

"Mhm," I heard myself murmur in response, turning my vision on the source of the voice.

"Are you okay," Daryl asked me, his voice seeming calm at the surface yet his blue eyes flooding with concern.

"He's going to eat me alive," I muttered out, finally breaking my pact of silence.

"What? Who," Daryl continued to ask, "That beast isn't going to touch you. I'll make sure of that."

How was I supposed to explain to Daryl that it was not the dog but rather the owner who was the subject of my fear? Better yet, how was I supposed to tell Daryl that a man who looked just like him scared the living shit out of me?

"I wasn't talking about the dog," I stated with a shaky voice.

"I wasn't talking about the dog either," Daryl said softly but clearly enough for me to understand as he watched the threat and his pet lurking from underneath the trees.

"He isn't going to touch you, got it," he said, tightening his hold on my arm again. Whether that was an order Daryl had commanded or the mere conformation of his protection, I nodded either way, glancing one more time at Mac who was sporting a confident grin in anticipation of a storm that was coming our way.

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**A/N: **

I hope you know what I'm implying here with Mac.

… Loads of trouble… Possible homicide… Maybe a little competition with Daryl.

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Next: find out how Jacques is doing and a Daryl and Sky moment. (Btw; I'm already writing that chapter so you won't have to wait so long.)

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For those who want to throw a tomato at me for being so late with my update, go ahead and do it in a comment below ;)


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